The Resurrection
by Baloo
Summary: The Forbidden Game IV. Eight years after the fact, Jenny challenges the Shadow Men to another game. And this time she’s playing not only for her soul, but also for Julian’s.
1. Part 1

**Summary:** The Forbidden Game IV. Eight years after the events of the FG, Jenny Thornton challenges the Shadow Men to another game. And this time she's playing not only for her soul, but also for Julian's. Righting the wrong for all you J/J shippers 

**Disclaimer:** The FG trilogy and all recognizable characters belong to L.J. Smith. 

  
  
  
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The Resurrection 

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_Part 1_

  
  
Jenny Thornton had been many things in her life: daughter, friend, student, co-worker, object of an obsession… but it didn't appear that Mrs. Tom Locke was going to be among that list. And at the age of twenty-four, at a point where most high school (and in their case, childhood) sweethearts had settled down, had children, taken out their first co-loan, and bought a minivan, she and Tom couldn't even manage to make it down the aisle. Couldn't or wouldn't. But the difference was hardly negligible. 

Jenny was sitting in front of her television set, watching a rerun of Friends, eating a bowl of fruit salad, when her roommate and best friend, Deirdre Eliade—known to all simply as Dee—came through the front door of the house they'd bought together. Two years ago, when the real estate market was at all all-time low, they had decided to go in on the venture together, since owning was better sense than renting and neither had any pressing commitments elsewhere. Jenny vaguely remembered wondering if she shouldn't first take the offer to Tom, but dismissing the idea before it had time to take root and develop. And in hindsight, it was a good thing too. 

Dee dropped her keys on the coffee table and her backpack containing her workout clothes on the floor next to it. Then she casually draped herself on the nearby armchair, long legs dangling elegantly over the side, lounging with all the grace and comfort of a large jungle cat. 

"Sorry I'm so late, Sunshine," she said, emitting a large yawn. "I just got caught up in practicing this new set of moves and kind of lost track of time." Dee taught several self-defense classes downtown when she wasn't choreographing action sequences for the various movies and television shows comprising part of their local film industry. She had made it through college, to prove to both herself and probably the rest of the world, her intellectual capability. But after college there was nothing that appealed to her more than returning to the physical world of athletics, and she had quickly become immersed in her new career. 

"Yeah?" Jenny replied, turning down the volume and sending her friend a sly grin. "And you wouldn't happen to have been practicing these new 'moves' with a certain somebody by the name of Devon Saunders, would you?" 

With an upturn of her nose, Dee replied, "Do you really think that I would use the ancient and honorable practice of martial arts to serve as a flimsy excuse to indulge in a passing fancy for some man?" 

"Uh huh." 

Dee's face broke feral grin. "Well, he is one fine specimen of a man." 

"And that justifies your abuse of the 'ancient and honorable practice of martial arts'?" Jenny asked with a smirk. 

"Hell yeah." There was a momentary pause during which Dee was undoubtedly making a mental checklist of all those finer points of Mr. Devon Saunders that made the transgression justifiable. Undoubtedly, because of the half-hooded gaze and sly grin that marked her features, reminiscent of a cat that had just indulged in a particularly satisfying bowl of cream. After a while she finally cleared the expression from her face and turned back to her friend, asking, "So how was your day?" 

And here it was, the moment of truth. Jenny braced herself mentally for the impending reaction, before replying, "Tom and I called off the wedding." 

There was a break that followed during which the only sounds that could be heard throughout the room were those of faint laughter coming from the television. Then Dee pulled herself into an upright position, her legs coming down before her, the soles of her shoes resting on the carpet. "What do you mean you called it off? As in 'We're not ready now, but we will be eventually...?'" Dee asked, obviously unsure of the severity of the circumstances. 

"No, more like called it off as in 'We will never be ready, and it's time to face the truth and move on,'" Jenny answered. 

Dee's dark brows came together as she assessed her roommate's appearance. "This isn't right. You and Tom have been together for seventeen years, and now you tell me it's suddenly over… What's up with the fruit salad? You should be shoveling your way through a pint of Haagen Daaz, or Tom and Jerry's, or whatever it is that's the comfort brand of the month. And where are the puffy red eyes, the mascara-stained cheeks? Why don't you look upset?" 

Jenny sighed as she stared at her increasingly irate friend before her. She knew this wasn't going to be easy; in fact, the most difficult about the whole breakup had been the prospect of telling their friends. Their friends, who had become so dependent on seeing them together, that neither she nor Tom relished the idea of breaking their illusion of the "perfect couple." But of all people, she had figured that Dee would be most likely to take it all in stride. 

"Dee, first of all, this isn't really all that sudden—" 

"Not sudden?" Dee interrupted. "You were supposed to be getting married in two months. Two months! You had the church booked, the wedding invitations printed up, the dress all picked out, even those hideous bridesmaid dresses that you were going to make us wear…" 

"You thought my bridesmaid dresses were hideous?" 

Dee sent her roommate a glare. "Jenny, really, that's beside the point." 

She was right. The topic of the bridesmaid dresses was one that could be returned to at a later time. "Okay, we had all of it taken care of for show, but we never really planned our future _together_. We never even talked about living arrangements, how we would handle our jobs, when we wanted to have kids… whether we even planned to have kids. We may have been together for seventeen years, but for the last few, we were just barely hanging on." 

Dee was silent a moment as she stared down at the floor thoughtfully. "I didn't know. I guess I didn't realize how bad it'd gotten. I mean, we could all see that things weren't as "picture perfect" as you liked to pretend they were. We weren't completely oblivious, you know. But it's just that you seemed like one of those few things in life that were a given. Death, taxes, Tom-and-Jenny, and everything else are variables." 

There was a pause as both women stared unseeing at the television screen. Sometime during the conversation the show had ended, and a different one begun, but the images passed unheeded, less a distraction than a backdrop to their thoughts. 

"It was the Game, wasn't it?" 

The question caught Jenny so off-guard she could only stare blankly ahead, breath caught in her throat, too afraid to face Dee and reveal the truth she had spent so long keeping to herself. 'How did she know, there was no way she could know…' 

"It was during the Game that we all changed," Dee elaborated. 

She almost let out a sigh of relief and her heart rate returned to normal as she realized that Dee wasn't actually talking about what she'd feared. There was no way in the worlds—all nine of them—that she could have known about _that_. 

"But I thought it was all for the better." 

"It was," Jenny replied earnestly. "Tom changed for the better. I changed for the better. But it was just that the new Tom and the new Jenny were… incompatible." She finished with a shrug, "We just weren't right for each other anymore." 

It might have been the tone of her voice, something in the way she'd said it, or maybe it was just a matter of making the connections, because suddenly Dee's head snapped up and she looked at her through narrowed dark eyes. "This isn't about Tom. It's about _him_." There was no question actually there, and she gave no time for a response. "Sunshine, I know you thought you cared for him, maybe that you even loved him, but whatever hold he had over you was part of the Game. You have to realize that." 

Jenny said nothing, only stared at her friend mutely, while inside her mind cried, 'It wasn't like that, you don't know!' How could she understand that Jenny's feelings for him had only developed _after_ he had lost his hold over her? When she had finally been able to look past the cold and arrogant exterior and finally see the creature beneath: the one who hungered for love and affection, feelings that he had never known. 

How could she tell any of them—all her friends who had been through the ordeal with her—about the kisses she had shared with him? And not just the ones he had extracted as payment or by trickery, but the ones she had given to him willingly, when she had known just who and what he was, and still managed to see him as someone worth caring for. Dee couldn't know that, and Jenny couldn't tell her, because to admit that would be to admit that she had betrayed Tom long before their current problems had begun. 

"God, Jenny, he's been dead eight years—" 

"He's not dead. Something that isn't born can't die," Jenny interjected almost without thought. Then she cringed. By saying that, she had all but admitted to Dee's accusation, admitted at least that her thoughts had been projected in that direction. And she wasn't supposed to let Dee know that; she was supposed to deny it all and turn her attention away from the subject so that her friend wouldn't get any ideas. Or realize that Jenny was having one of her own. 

In the eight years since the Game, she'd come to many realizations. She'd wanted _him_, even back then, by the end she had, but then she had believed the price of having him too high. But as time went by and life carried on, the world—Tom included—had only succeeded in disappointing her and she began to question her judgment. 

What had she once told herself, so long ago… that the universe would be a far poorer place without him, but safer. It had been a lie. Or maybe not a lie at all, but certainly not the whole truth. What the universe may or may not have been, it was she, Jenny Thornton, who was much safer without him… and poorer. 

No, she could never have lived within the world he had offered her, but he could have lived in hers. Or tried, certainly tried. When she closed her eyes and concentrated really hard, she could almost see him with his frost-blond hair and electric blue eyes, moving about this world, trying to blend in, like he really belonged. Going to the movies, buying groceries in the supermarket, standing in the lineup at the bank. Could she really imagine him doing all those things? No, not really. But she could imagine waking up next to him every morning, watching the expression on his face when she told him she loved him. 

She was abruptly brought out of her thoughts and back to the present by the sound of Dee's voice continuing their conversation. "He might as well be," she retorted. "They carved his name out of the runestave." 

"It's like Michael said," Jenny said softly, studying her hands. "What if somebody carved his name back onto the runestave?" 

"Carve our names on the stave—and we come into existence… Cut them out—and we disappear." 

"Jenny, no," Dee exclaimed, her back going stiff as she absorbed the meaning of her friend's words. And the look on her face—well, that was the closest Deirdre Eliade ever came to looking horrified. "You can't even think about that. Whatever else, no matter how much he loved you, he was still dangerous. And maybe not evil, but certainly cruel." Then she relaxed slightly, leaning back into the armchair as another thought came to her. "Besides, in order for you to get your hands on the runestave, you would have to go back into the Shadow World. And in case you don't remember our last visit, the Shadow Men weren't too happy with us at the end." 

Jenny remained quiet, her head bowed slightly forward so her amber-colored hair cascaded around her face. She kept her face hidden from Dee, who had known her so long she could practically read her expressions like a book. Because the truth was, despite all Dee's warning, there was an idea brewing in her head, an idea that had been planted there a long time ago, but only recently allowed to take root, and even more recently allowed to flourish. 

Yes, the Shadow Men weren't too happy with her, but she had something they wanted, something they had wanted since she was five years old and she had opened the door in her grandfather's basement, setting them free. And they had something that she wanted, something she'd dreamed about almost every night for years now, even while she was still pretending that her heart belonged to Tom. 

The Shadow Men liked games, didn't they? Well, Jenny Thornton was ready to play. And not even Dee, with all her practical protests and heartfelt concern, was going to stand in her way. 

  
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TBC

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Okay, tell me what you think so I know whether or not to continue with the story. I realize there isn't really any action in that part, but it's just an introduction and I'm trying to create a backdrop that explains why, after all this time, Jenny decides to leave Tom and go back for Julian. 


	2. Part 2

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I didn't expect to get much interest on the first chapter since it was kind of slow. I also noticed that there was a real lack of FG fiction on this site, and I just chalked it up to the fact that maybe there weren't that many fans. It's nice to know I'm not alone *sniffle, sniffle*. 

**Disclaimer:** Sure they're mine. I only do this fan fiction thing when I feel like slumming. 

  
  
  
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The Resurrection

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_Part 2_

  
  
A month had passed since that day, the day that she had first gotten the idea. It was also the same day she had broken off a relationship that had lasted the better part of two decades, but being the optimist she was Jenny preferred not to linger on that part. Besides, no longer being one half of the Tom-and-Jenny unit was not the life-altering loss she had led herself to believe it would be. 

At worst, she had lost her guaranteed movie date, someone with whom to check out some chic new restaurant that had opened up downtown, or someone to drag along on her spontaneous shopping trips. True enough she could still do those things with Dee, but her best friend had really hit it off with Devon, the "chocolate martial arts god" (in Dee's own words) and the two were virtually inseparable. Much as Tom and Jenny had been in their early years, and therefore tagging along would leave her feeling like a third wheel… um, speaking in terms of motorcycles, of course. 

A quiet night at home with a fire burning, curled up on the couch in front of the T.V. wasn't quite the same when you did it alone, and Valentine's Day had been hard. But it wasn't so much Tom she missed, rather the companionship that she had grown used to. And the sex. 

Well no, not _the_ sex, but sex in general. There had been nothing significant about their love life that it would cause her to spend lonely nights reminiscing about it, but it had been… nice. 

However, the month hadn't been spent idly. Countless hours after work and during the weekends had been passed at the library or on the Internet, diligently researching everything and anything relating to runes. She even went so far as to retrieve her grandfather's old journals from Pennsylvania. It hadn't been as difficult to get into the house as it had back when she was sixteen and she had snuck across the country with Dee and two other members of their group, Audrey Myers and Michael Cohen. 

A twenty-four-year-old visiting the home of her missing, and possibly dead, grandfather wasn't an unusual occurrence. No one even realized that she'd removed anything—her visit was merely a nostalgic indulgence in childhood memories, even if there was still some doubt as to what happened between the two that fateful night nineteen years ago. Jenny had denied it vehemently when she'd learned what they all believed, that the kind man she remembered, the one who gave up his own life in place of his granddaughter's, would ever do a thing to hurt her. 

In college she had even gone so far as to visit a psychiatrist, claiming to retrieve repressed memories that cleared her grandfather of any wrongdoing. In actuality, she had discussed anything but that night and her subsequent experiences with the Shadow Men during her therapy sessions, but that was what doctor-patient confidentiality was for. 

Still, suspicion in her family never completely abated and Jenny had learned, with disgust, that even a good man's name could be tarnished through rumors and unfounded accusations alone. 

There was still the issue of avoiding Dee's suspicion. While others had no reason to question her actions, Dee knew Julian was on her mind. And had she known about Jenny's sudden resurging interest in runes and Norse mythology, she surely would have guessed the nature of her best friend's plan. 

So she made sure that when she conducted her research at home Dee was out, and the long hours at the library were explained away as an especially large workload at the youth center, where she worked as a social worker. After all, with Tom out of the picture, she suddenly had a great deal of idle time on her hands. Even when she left for her weekend trip to Pennsylvania, she had taken care to develop a cover story about a sick aunt. 

Any other time her reasons would not have been accepted so readily. But the usually perceptive Dee was the victim of love, a phenomenon well known to interfere with one's common sense. And for her own selfish reasons Jenny was especially glad that Devon Saunders had entered her friend's life. 

Finally, Jenny had ensured herself the perfect window of time during which to enact her plan. 

On a Friday morning in early March both she and Dee had sat in the kitchen, having breakfast. Casually, Jenny inquired, "So, you going out with Devon tonight?" 

Giving her a wolfish grin, Dee replied, "You bet I am. Though I doubt we'll be spending much time 'out'." 

"Should I expect you back before tomorrow?" 

"Hmm, in the words of the eternally wise magic eight ball, 'I wouldn't count on it'." An eerily dreamy look overcame Dee's face—eerie because dreamy and Dee were not two words that were commonly associated—as she held the plain white mug between her hands, elbows propped up on the table. She almost looked she belonged in one of those coffee commercials. 

"Devon is the master of many trades, and let's just say he likes to take the time to make sure whatever he does, he does well. The man has the endurance of a marathon runner." 

Jenny tried to suppress the twinge of jealous that arose at Dee's words. "Marathon, huh? Tom was more like a hundred-meter dash kind of guy." 

Dee immediately burst out in laughter before she was able to correct herself and adopt a more sympathetic attitude. "Oh sorry, babe, you're not still touchy about the whole Tom thing, are you?" 

Jenny arced one straight eyebrow in response. It was a strange question considering she hadn't been upset about the breakup from the very beginning—and that very fact had been what bothered Dee the most when she learned about it. Jenny chalked it up to the whole being in love thing again. 

"If I were, would I be making jokes about his stamina?" 

"I guess not," Dee replied, smiling as she shook her dark head. She looked toward the clock and jumped up from her seat. "Shit, I'm going to be late." She dumped the remaining brown liquid down the sink and rushed out of the room. "See you tomorrow, Sunshine." 

"Have a good time," Jenny called out, and then added to herself, a bit enviously, "Not that there's any doubt about that." 

When the front door slammed shut and Jenny was safely alone, she allowed herself an indulgent smile that she had been hiding from Dee, a smile that had nothing to do with her friend's good fortune. 

Immediately, she rushed to the phone to call in for work. Her boss was quite understanding for Jenny rarely used her sick days, and he had little reason to doubt her claim. With Dee gone and that taken care of, Jenny set to work. She had at least a day on her hands, but she didn't want to waste any of it. 

  


~*~

  
After her phone call, she had slipped into clothes that were a little more practical for what she was about to face, and a little less appropriate for work than the ones she had been wearing before. Dark blue jeans, tan hiking shoes, and a matching sweater rounded off the outfit. It wasn't anything special or glamorous, but she was going for functional. And if she did see Julian, it hardly mattered what she wore. He had watched her for years and seen her in all states of appearance. Without makeup, hair uncombed and unwashed, and in those old, ratty ensembles that you only wore in front of family and only when you were concerned about comfort, nothing else. 

If he'd seen her at her worst and still wanted her, then he should be perfectly satisfied with mediocre. _If_ he still wanted her, a nagging little voice whispered in the back of her head. But she pushed it aside and focused on the task at hand. 

Jenny's heart thudded wildly in her chest as she looked at the old journal page for what must have been the hundredth time. The truth was that she had unwittingly—and perhaps with subconscious reasoning—committed the necessary instructions to memory back when they had evoked the runes during the last game. When she and her three friends had entered the Shadow World in order to retrieve Tom and her cousin Zach from Julian. 

Still, she found herself checking, double-checking, and checking once more as she reached up with the black felt pen to draw the runes onto the door. Remembering the damage caused last time to the wooden panel in her grandfather's house, the runes forever emblazoned as smoldering etchings on the surface, this time she chose a discrete location for her endeavor. Namely, her closet door. 

Afterward, they had removed the door and burned it to eliminate the evidence of their activities from the house. Of course, they'd had a difficult time of explaining just where the door had gone to her parents and Mrs. Durash, her grandfather's one-time housekeeper on whom the role of caretaker had eventually fallen. 

But there were a lot of things that day they had difficulty explaining, and the door had been the least of them. 

Steadying her hand through sheer force of will, she drew the two circles, one inside the other. Then the runes, within the inner circle. All seven. Next, she picked up the sharp new box cutter she'd bought for just this occasion, and carved the penned figures into the surface of the door. 

Now came the part she remembered as being the most difficult: tracing the runes in blood. She had considered attaining it in some other manner, maybe animal blood from the butcher, but she hadn't wanted to risk the unacceptability of the substitute. She had too much riding on this to let her mere queasiness get in the way. 

This time there was no accidental slip of the knife to save her the task. Of course, she was still sure that the "accident" had been less that and more the result of Julian's influence. It seemed only too convenient that it should have occurred when she hesitated to cut herself and thus allow the completion of the next step in entering the Shadow World. Not that she begrudged him his intervention because it was a lot easier than having to do it herself. 

Nonetheless, the task had to be completed and the reward that awaited her was enough to make her swallow her fear. The knife was sharp and with just enough pressure, done quickly so the pain did not come until afterward—a bitter stinging sensation that cried for attention—there was an open gap no more than an inch long with the ruby red liquid pooling steadily on her finger. 

She reached up to trace the carvings with her blood. By the time she'd finished, the wound was already clotting, and after placing a handy band-aid over it, she carried on to the next step. 

All she had left now was to say the runes out loud. She took a deep breath and began. 

"Dagaz." For awakening, the rune of change. 

"Thurisaz." The thorn. 

She faltered momentarily as she reached the next one. "Gebo." This one still held painful memories. Sacrifice, gift, death, and the yielding up of the spirit. 

"Isa." Primal ice. 

"Kenaz." Primal fire. 

"Raidho." For journeying in space or time, and for protection walking between the worlds. 

And finally, "Uruz." The ox. For piercing the veil between the worlds. 

And it began. 

If she had believed it would be any less stunning the second time around, she was severely mistaken. The fact that she was alone this time to face whatever awaited her beyond, only served to make the whole procedure more intimidating. 

The door began to flash, like a strobe light in black and white, while the circle of runes began to glow and then start spinning. And the sounds were more incredible than she remembered—a dull roar that metamorphosed into a tearing sound, so loud she was sure the neighbors would call the police to come investigate. The floor vibrated beneath her, and there were multiple clattering sounds as ornaments and other small loose objects within her room shifted across the surfaces of her dresser, her armoire, desk and night table. 

Then with one final blinding explosion of light, it all stopped, leaving behind only an eerie stillness and a deafening silence. 

Jenny glanced at the door, swallowing the lump that rose up in her throat. She made a perfunctory adjustment of her bag, the single strap thrown over one shoulder, and the bulk of it resting against the opposite hip. Everything was in it; flashlight, extra batteries (which she packed remembering the incident of the last trip), matches, a second box cutter, and anything she could consider being of use during her stint in the Shadow World. Though, after the last experience, she was more knowledgeable of what sorts of tools might be required, she wasn't so foolish as to believe that she would be facing the same journey once more. Something told her the Shadow Men didn't play the same game with the same participants twice. 

Finally, before resigning herself completely to her fate, Jenny pulled out the object nestled firmly within the front pocket of her jeans. The pants were of a more form-fitting style and pockets seemed to have been added on more for the aesthetic appeal than functionality, so she had wiggle and squirm a bit to get it out. But eventually she did. 

It caught the light and sparkled in her hand, its luster undiminished through the passing years. Because even though it may not have been presented on her hand for all to see for some time now, it had still been tended to with great care. Julian's ring. 

Placing it on her finger, where it had always belonged. She had only taken it off to put on Tom's engagement ring when he had finally proposed just over a year and half ago. And sometimes a part of her wondered whether he hadn't done so simply to see Julian's ring replaced with his own. Despite his claims that he understood, and he had at one point, there was no denying that it must have been difficult to watch his girl walking about with another man's declaration of his love visible on her body. 

But none of that mattered now because she had exchanged the diamond-adorned band for the simple gold one she wore now. And this one was infinitely more precious. 

"I am my only master," she whispered firmly, reaching forth. 

And with that thought at the fore of her mind, she opened the door. 

  
**

TBC

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	3. Part 3

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, all L.J. Smith's. 

  
  
  
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The Resurrection 

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_Part 3_

  
  
There was a familiar resistance as she passed over the threshold and stumbled her way through to the darkness beyond. Abruptly, the door behind her slammed shut, leaving her surrounded by utter black. Groping blindly and finding nothing but empty space, Jenny felt panic rising in her throat as long moments passed and still light refused to appear. 

Alone and in the dark and on the Shadow Men's turf. 'Oh god, oh god, oh god,' her mind furiously chanted. 'I'm trapped. I'm trapped and I'll never get out.' The sound of her own harsh breathing, the furiously shallow intake of air, pounded in her ears, and she realized that she was in danger of hyperventilating. There was not way in hell she was going to risk fainting in this place. 

She inhaled deeply, letting out a shuddering sigh before repeating the process over several times. Finally, the panic subsided, and the fear was manageable, not the blinding—so to speak—consuming tempest it had been escalating into. And in the process of reclaiming control she had begun to notice something peculiar. As her fear lessened, the room grew steadily less dark. At first she cast it off as a trick of the imagination, the by-product of standing too long in the utter darkness, but after a while it became quite evident such was not the case. 

By the time that her heartbeat had returned to a vaguely normal, and at least safe, rate, there was actually enough light for her to make out her surroundings. And as the light appeared, her fear lessened, working in a cyclic nature that fed off itself. 

Of course, it had very nearly been the other way around. 

Jenny shuddered at the realization, but refused to be drawn back into such thoughts, instead choosing to examine the setting. 

She stood in the center of an enormous rocky cavern, with ceilings so high they almost seemed to disappear into the darkness that still lingered. There was only the vaguest impression that they were actually there, and that this place, whatever it was, didn't go on forever, but was finite in its dimensions. The circumference of the cavern—for it did appear to be of a circular shape—was also great, but not nearly so much as the height. 

The light that had saved her didn't appear to have any direct source, which was unusual considering there were no openings through which it might have leaked in. Rather, it appeared to emanate from the center, where she currently stood, and fade as it moved out towards the walls. 

The place was empty, deserted, not a single break along its rocky floor. In the distance, she could just barely make out an exit, a darkening tunnel that led away. And at the other end, directly opposite to the first, was another. An entrance and an exit, she realized. But which was which? 

The door she had come through had disappeared, as she knew it would, and as it had the last time she had dared to enter the Shadow World. There as no escape now, no going back. Only forward. 

It was very cold in the cavern and Jenny shivered despite her thick sweater. But a tremble of a different sort threatened to consume her when she realized that the temperature was progressively dropping, and a terrifyingly familiar white mist was making its way to her from the two tunnels. Not just from the tunnels, but from all directions, nonexistent entrance points allowing it to seep in, a dense, twirling, seething mass of essence. 

Black mixed with white, shadows with ice, a blinding brightness blending into darkness. And that smell, a combination of decay and brimstone and the rotting scent of spoiled meat; it burned her nostrils. Jenny's eyes tore, the threatening tears blinding her, though she couldn't say whether they were due to the assault on her senses, or the utter terror that was quickly overtaking her. Alone this time, without her friends—who couldn't have helped her anyway, but would have been of some comfort nonetheless—on her own to face the Shadow Men. 

The air itself seemed to hiss around her. "Faaamishhshhed…" Not so much a word as a constant state of existence. The Shadow Men were always hungry, always wanting more. And they had an awful tendency to play with their food. She didn't have to look to know that frost was forming on whatever surface available, which was rather limited to the ground below her feet and to her. The white powder was already soaking through her hair and her sweater as the heat of her body melted it, causing it to dampen the material it contacted. 

The white mist reached out, alternating between deceptively gentle, insistent tendrils and lashing whips that hit Jenny's exposed skin with all the intensity of the arctic wind. Her long honey-colored hair flew about her face, stinging as it met her flesh. 

And it kept getting brighter, the light overwhelming her sight until she could see nothing beyond its whiteness. 'Snow-blind,' the thought was realized within her frantic mind. 'It's like being snow-blind.' 

And cold, so cold. Painfully cold, and as each whip of air hit her, she wanted to scream at the agony. She wanted to cower in fear, fall to the ground and wish she had never opened the portal; that she had listened to Dee, stayed in her world. That she had listened to her mother and married Tom. Lived a plain, flavorless, boring existence that had nothing to do with the Shadow Men. 

And finally she did scream. But not the wordless, terror-filled shriek of one who has seen into the yawning entrance to hell and realized there is no escaping it. 

She screamed with purpose; a single word and a command. 

"Algiz!" 

Her hand clutched at an object previously hidden beneath her sweater, where it hung from a chain around her neck. She clutched it with such intensity that her knuckles were bone-white in their hold, painful just to look at. She clutched it as if her life depended on it. 

And suddenly, it all stopped. 

No, actually, it didn't stop; it continued on around her, while she alone remained untouched. The howling winds sounded faded now, almost as if heard from a distance, and their fierce assault no longer afflicted her body. The white-black mist shifted about her, but an invisible line of separation held it from her as it swirled impotently, a forbidding halo surrounding her body. 

Then the bright whiteness of it too faded, allowing her vision to return gradually. In her tight grip the wooden pendant seemed to grind into her bones, its purpose served and the gesture unnecessary, but still she held on in fear what letting go might mean. 

The dark mist remained, gathering and forming into discernable shapes. Nightmarish shapes, ones that had haunted her dreams—both waking and those that came at night—forcing her to consciousness, drenched in cold sweat and throat ready to burst in unvoiced screams. Shapes that had haunted all of them, her friends who had come into the Shadow World with her, but none so much as Jenny. For she alone had almost lost herself—twice—to them, the Shadow Men. Once, in her grandfather's basement, at the age of five, and a trade, him for her, was all that saved her. And then again, twelve years later when she had robbed the Shadow Men of their "prey" and another exchange had been made. An exchange that had resulted in the wrong she had finally come to right. 

That thought was enough to bring Jenny back to her senses, push aside the terrifying thoughts that that brushed against her mind like butterfly wings of despair. 

Her hand eased in its grip, letting the pendant fall to rest against her sweater, though her heart still pounded loudly in her ears, and the fact that she could see them now, clearly, did nothing to help ease it. Their hideous, deformed bodies, their cruel, ravenous eyes, and the eternal hunger so strong, it was a presence in itself. 

It was cold still, within the cavern, but it was a sufferable cold, and one she knew existed more in her head than outside her body. 

Then one tall figure stepped forward, out of the dissipating mist, and she recognized it. 

Crocodile eyes, and though she could not see them right now, fingers scaled with skin like a dinosaur's. Fingers of the hand that had cut through Julian's runestave and taken him from her. The one that had voiced their demand for blood, an exchange for the prey she had released. Blood, any blood, even that of their own when the youngest Shadow Man refused to sacrifice her. 

And something in those dark, unfathomable, malevolent depths told her that it recognized her too. But she wasn't surprised. After all, if she hadn't forgotten, how could she expect any less of a creature to whom eight years was but an infinitesimal speck on the fabric of eternity? 

It spoke, in a voice shockingly lovely and like distant wind chimes of ice, grotesque in its beauty, coming from the mouth of something so monstrous. "You have pierced the veil between the worlds. For this, you should be ours." 

Voices murmured their agreement, some beautiful, some hideous, ranging from one spectrum to the other, in a rainbow of sound. Together they produced a harmony utterly frightening to her ears. 

"To do with as we please," added a whispering voice like snow blowing. It faded out so gradually, extending the word 'please' so she couldn't quite define when it finished speaking, just as she couldn't determine which of the creatures to whom the voice belonged. 

"But you come yielding a power unknown to you," this voice like a brass gong. And she recognized it too as it came forward to speak. Eyes pure red, like blood, tusk-like teeth that weren't yet visible and fingers like a gorilla's. Large, black, and padded; she had lain her own hand in it once, when she had been prepared to go with the Shadow Men, the price to pay for setting free her grandfather and the two pitiable boys who had entered Julian's game and unleashed dark powers beyond their grasp. 

And then Julian had knocked them apart, refusing to see her damned as so many before her had been. Taking her place instead. 

Finally, Jenny found her voice, her mind part occupied by images of frost-blond hair and eyes of liquid cobalt, and a boy who was not a boy, but a creature so ageless that time meant nothing to him but the fulfillment of an inevitable curse. 

Sheer determination had brought her this far, and she wasn't going to give up now. Not when she was so close. 

"Not so unknown," she replied, only a slight tremor running through her words. "I've been doing my homework." 

"But for what purpose?" the first one inquired, slight lilt to the chimes as the inscrutable black eyes peered at her. 

A scuttling movement caught her eye, and the ancient gray, withered fetus she remembered from their last confrontation came forward. "For what pleasure would you pay the price of pain?" Its tiger-eyes seized her own and it giggled maniacally, not waiting for her answer before it shuffled back from whence it'd come. 

"What do you seek?" a murky voice, thick like sludge, prodded. Her gaze shifted to the side, to her right, the direction from which the latest voice had come. 

They all but surrounded her, leaving only the space at her back empty space, since none had chosen to stand behind her, and for that she was grateful. Not that it mattered, for the rune she had called up, Algiz—rune of protection and defense—held an invisible shield about her. A sphere of safety, which she surmised was about four feet in radius, impenetrable so long as she held it. Though how long that would be, she had no idea. 

In theory, it should last until she no longer had the strength to enforce it, but she had never before had the chance to test her stamina. And especially never against an opposing force… because she could feel them now, the Shadow Men, searching for a weakness in her defense, waiting for the moment when she let down her guard and they could strike. 

She had indeed done her homework, had practiced invoking the ancient runes, to build confidence and precision. But she was afraid, and fear was making her faith waiver when she needed it to be most strong. So she had to do this quickly, before they wore her down, or before they penetrated her barrier. Spell it out, no hesitation. 

"A game." 

Because Julian had told her, not so directly, but in implications—when he spoke of Perthro, rune of gambling and divination—that whatever else, the Shadow Men played by the rules. 

"For a prize." 

And when they lost, they kept to their agreements, though she got the feeling that they rarely ever lost. 

Crocodile eyes inclined its head, and she could almost, almost sense a smile as it regarded her. It found her amusing, she could see. The prey that had barely escaped with her life, twice, and voluntarily came back for more. 

"What do you want? You know what we want." 

It was pleased; it certainly was, though still it did not display that pleasure openly. Others were not so restrained. The one with the blood red eyes was grinning plainly, its tusk-like teeth bared. Those that did not possess the tanned-leather faces that made the expression impossible, responded similarly. 

Moment of truth. Naming of the price. 

Jenny gave an answering grin, forcing herself to reply with a confidence she did not feel. "A runestave. With a name carved back in it. Julian's." 

The Shadow Men were shocked. She could feel their surprise, almost taste it in the air, under the overpowering flavors of brimstone and decay. 

The girl with the golden hair and determined gaze the color of cypress trees, who emanated light in her every movement, had caught the eye and the heart—something hereto thought nonexistent—of the youngest of their kind… this girl had shocked them. 

They had never understood the nature of Julian's infatuation. In their eyes, humans were nothing more than prey, to be hunted and slain and devoured slowly. But the youngest of the Shadow Men had defied this cycle, seeking the girl for reasons beyond them, watching and wanting and protecting her, and always waiting. 

The waiting they could understand, and the wanting too. And watching, that was what they did, from the shadows, off in the corner or far in the back, hunters of the night. But the protecting they could never comprehend. 

They had laughed at him, mocked his love, which was an anomaly in itself. Love that should not exist, emotions he should not be capable of. They had watched him make his move, witnessed as he tried to win her over and failed, and failed, and failed yet again. She would not be his, and they expected him to realize this, to return to their ways. Hunt the prey, capture it, play for a while, and then kill it. 

Yet he never learned, and even in the end he would have seen her go. But she had interfered with what was theirs and her actions, her mercy, had signed her over. As it should have been, for he would not have had her anyway, and prey like that was never meant to escape. Something so sweet, so pure, such light… it was meant to be savored, bit by bit, piece by piece. 

Then he had done the unthinkable. He had given up his place for her. Given up immortality and power unimaginable to extend the pathetic existence of a creature whose life could not last beyond the blink of an eye. For a mortal, a human, the prey. 

But he had done it, and they had had to let the prey go because they no longer held the claim. They missed their fun but they had to abide by the rules. So they returned to the shadows to wait, wait for the next sweet, tasty morsel to stumble their way. 

And then the prey returned. 

They said he was a fool for loving her. They said she would never love him back. But what did the Shadow Men know about love? 

  
**

TBC

**


	4. Part 4

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, yeah... not mine. Didn't we already know that? 

  
  
  
**

The Resurrection

**

  
_Part 4_

  
  
A niggling thought was demanding attention in the back of Jenny's mind. A thought that had been haunting her for some time now, and just how much of the last month had been consumed by it was mere testimony to the depth of her obsession. And she had no doubt now that Julian was an obsession, or how else could she account for her present circumstances? 

What sane, reasonable person would willingly return to the Shadow Men after barely escaping their clutches, not once, but twice? Answer: none. Her fixation had robbed her of her reason, and next, the Shadow Men would rob her of her sanity. 

She could see it in their eyes, in their toothy grins—when they had teeth at all to reveal—and taste it in the air she shared with them. They had plans for her. 

Jenny barely suppressed a shudder, averting her gaze from theirs', and diverting her attention. 

And then came that thought again. 

'What if…' was how the treacherous notion always began. An insubstantial hypothetical that held far too much power for her own good. 'What if they can't do it? What if they won't?' 

They could be toying with her already. Waiting for her request to be voiced, drawing out the process, raising her hopes, only to deny her at that very last instant when she thought she was home-free. Who said they needed the game for them to defeat her? 

All it took was a word. 

She supposed she could walk away then if they refused the terms of the game. They held no claim over her, and the pendant, it protected her. But could she really? And it wasn't just the physical possibility with which she was concerned—making the recently vanished door back to her world reappear—but could she walk away when she'd come so close? Or would she have to stay, in some desperate hope of changing their minds, of producing some stake they could not resist? 

Her obsession was complete. As utter as the one that had plagued Julian, brought him after her all that time ago. And what had he gotten to show for all his efforts? What would she have to show for hers? 

'Julian, how did you do this to me?' she questioned silently, knowing he was in no place or position to answer, or even hear. 

All this went through her head in a matter of seconds, in the moment it took for the Shadow Men to consider her offer, and her reminisces were cut short by their response. 

"The Stave of Life, restored." The tall one spoke, and there was something in the voice that belied acceptance of the terms. 

And now she had to tack on the condition. Is there such a thing as asking too much of the Shadow Men? If there was, perhaps it was the very thing she was doing now. 

She took a deep breath and replied, "Restored to bring him back, yes, but not what he once was. Not as a Shadow Man. I want him to be human… mortal. So the runestave had no power over him." It was a mouthful and she almost fumbled in the effort to get it all out and in the open. 

All cards face up on the table. Because what good was bluffing going to do her now? They knew exactly where they had her, they knew what to hold over her head, and she was at their mercy—whatever that might mean to them. She may have been able to surprise the Shadow Men, but there was no use trying to fool them. 

She sensed outrage as the cacophony of voices protested. 

"A Shadow Man, mortal?" a cawing voice replied in a tone that could almost be described as incredulous. 

"He would be beyond our laws." This one was thick and slow, like quicksand. "Untouchable." 

"It is unacceptable," another declared, and it was a hissing sound, like a snake. "We cannot give him to her." 

Others agreed, adding their own comments to the noise. 

"Silence!" the crocodile-eyed Shadow Man suddenly roared, effectively smothering their objections. Calmly then, it turned its gaze back to Jenny. "We are giving her nothing." Before she could react it continued, addressing her now, "You asked for a game. And a game you shall have. Your offer is accepted." 

The blood-eyed Shadow Man seemed to see where the other was going, and with a slow nod, it picked up the explanation. "But you shall have to win to get your prize. Lose, and we shall have ours." 

This seemed to appease the others, and she could even hear laughter among some of the group now. "Only if she wins." Clearly, they did not believe that would happen. 

"Then they will both be ours." 

Jenny's head snapped toward the pair at the forefront of the group, crocodile eyes and the blood-eyed one. Her tone was guarded as she asked, "What do they mean 'both'? You've unmade Julian… you can't have him now." 

The crocodile-eyed one stared back at her steadily. "You win, you leave with your life—and his. You lose, we keep them both." 

"Your stakes," the tusked Shadow Man agreed. "You have brought him into the game. Now he too must play." 

Jenny's horrified gaze flicked between the two, and then to the other members of the group as they watched the proceedings. There was such hunger in their eyes as they sized up their potential meal, such darkness in their smiles… and not only had she brought herself to them, but she had also dragged Julian into the whole mess. 

If she lost, it wasn't just her life at stake. She would be bringing him back from peaceful oblivion, just to throw him to the Shadow Men. No doubt they would love to get their teeth into him. They had unmade him last time, but their prey—her grandfather and the two boys she had released—had not been replaced. No new toys to take their place. 

And surely, they were not beyond holding grudges. 

That's why they looked so very pleased now, knowing that she knew. That she may very well have damned him alongside herself. 

"Do you agree to the conditions?" 

That meant the deal was not final and there was still a chance to change her mind. To back out if she so chose. 

Jenny took a deep, shuddering breath as she closed her eyes. If she didn't agree, they wouldn't offer her any alternatives, this she knew for certain. And who was to say she would lose? After all, she had beaten Julian in three of his games. 'Two,' a tiny voice in the back of her head corrected. 'You cheated in the first one, and only had partial victories in the others.' 

That was right. By all rights, she had lost the first one, and if Julian had so chosen, he could have taken her back with him after he escaped from the closet of the paper house. She had promised herself to him when she spoke the words: _"All I refuse and thee I choose."_

But he hadn't. He had let her play another game, given her another chance to save herself, along with her friends. And she had almost made it too, only to lose Tom and her cousin Zach at the end. Which, of course, had led to the third game. 

The nature of the partial victory of the third one was rather obvious, being as it was the reason why she was here. She did win, only her success had come at a steep price. 

She opened her eyes to meet her fate. "I agree." 

The crocodile-eyed one merely nodded, and it was the tusked Shadow Man that spoke. "The bargain is complete. Now the rules will hold you." 

"And the game?" she inquired. She was surprised at how calm she sounded. Not at all like she had just signed over her life. 

"Yes, what sort of game shall we play?" a voice like arctic wind agreed. 

There was a contemplative pause and blood-eyed one replied, "She has run the Race. Survived the Hunt. Completed the Quest." 

"The maze," the crocodile-eyed Shadow Man finally suggested. But it didn't really sound like a suggestion, for Jenny knew enough of them now to know that this one's words was law. 

A maze. Well, that certainly didn't sound any worse than the others. "What sort of maze?" The tusked one grinned in response, a hideous sight. 'A photographer's worst nightmare on picture day.' 

"That is part of the puzzle. A test of sorts. To deem worthiness." 

She frowned, considering the answer. They had to tell her what game she was playing… Julian had always told her the goal, and what she had to do to get there. "Then, what about the rules? Where do I begin… where's the end?" 

"The beginning is the end. And the end the beginning," a voice like champagne glasses tinkling corrected. 

"You begin where you stand." 

"A riddle to send you on your way," crocodile eyes spoke. "Solve it and you know where you are. Know where you are and you know where to go: 

  
"Where the journey ends and forever is in sight  
Good finds its reward and Death its King;  
Light casts no shadows, but shadows follow light,  
Abandoning all memories to which they cling." 

  
There was a pause as Jenny considered the words. "This is where we are." She felt her brow knotting in response, no answers coming to mind. 

The blood-eyed one replied, "The maze holds no clock. Time is available as required." 

"But lose and you are ours. No one to take your place this time." 

"We shall have you both." 

The crocodile-eyed Shadow Man moved abruptly, plucking a familiar object out of the air. A runestave. 

But it was not quite as she remembered it; that one had been alive and pulsating, more real than almost anything she had ever seen. More alive than anything she had seen on earth. It was the very essence that was Julian, and its existence had allowed him to live. Then, it had been a changing force, the markings etched across its surface, the delicate little runes on the branch-like shape of its body, moving and altering continuously. The thing had breathed with life. 

And now it looked dead. Not completely so, but faded and frozen almost, as if someone had bled the very spirit from it. But then, Jenny remembered seeing the way the liquid diamond had spilt like blood when the knife had slashed across its surface, and she supposed that the assessment was probably not far from the truth. 

The Stave of Life looked damaged beyond repair and she felt her heart wrench in her chest. They had agreed, hadn't they, to the conditions? They must be able to fix it. 

Before her eyes, the blood-eyed Shadow Man pulled out another runestave, just as ancient looking as the long, flat piece of wood in the other's hand, but this one was utterly blank. As dull and devoid of life as the other, though its surface yet remained unmarked. 

A thin glinting shard appeared in the Shadow Man's other hand, its sharp edges gleaming menacingly in the dimly lit cavern. Jenny watched intently as the Shadow Man began to transcribe the runes from the damaged Stave to the new one, its hand moving at a speed beyond her comprehension. The tiny figures were being carved in with stunning accuracy, and each added rune brought it that much closer to life. 

Halfway through and already the sluggish signs of movement were visible on the completed parts, as if it were awaking from a deep rest. By the time they had finished, it was a creature in full state of awareness, so intricate and involving that she couldn't keep looking at it for fear of losing herself in her examinations. 

They appeared to be finished and just as they should have stopped, the knife came up for a few final movements, cutting into the surface additional shapes. And the light of the Stave dimmed ever so slightly, an amount hardly negligible but for the fact that it had occurred at all. 

"What did you do? At the end there?" Jenny asked, quenching the fear that arose inside her for questioning their actions. 

"Adjustments," came the reply. "We have taken his gifts." 

"You mean, his Shadow Man powers?" There was no other way she could term it, but she knew that Julian had had in his possession abilities beyond her scope of understanding. He had appeared and disappeared at whim, pulled objects out of thin air, and has strength enough to toss Dee across the room with a mere flick of the wrist. She assumed all were common to his kind. 

"Yes," crocodile eyes answered. 

"So, he's… human now?" she ventured hesitantly. 

"Almost." The stave in its hand rose up ever so slightly. "The Stave controls his existence. His life is still in our hands." 

"But none of his powers will be available—to help you in the game." 

That didn't really bother her. She had won the previous games on her wits alone, although she had had her friends then… and now she had Julian. 

Breathing had suddenly become a rather difficult task. 

"Where is he?" But even as the words left her mouth, something had begun to appear before her, a shadowy figure steadily defining itself apart from the mist. The outline of a translucent shape that was gradually solidifying. 

A head now, and a body she could make out. Down on his knees, faced away from her and head bowed, but profile revealed to her eyes. Platinum hair falling forward into closed eyes, impossibly thick and dark lashes resting against the flesh beneath. Black pants, black duster; the very clothes he had been wearing as he faded away in her arms in her grandfather's crowded hallway that day. 

It was like time had decided to stop and turn back eight years. 

She almost took a step forward, but a certain sense of unreality held her back. He was like an apparition, or a dream that lingered in your mind after you awoke, while you drifted between the planes of sleep and consciousness. And if you grasped too hard, it would disappear, leaving you with nothing but the bittersweet taste of anticipation. 

So she remained standing, as she was, heart thudding wildly in her chest but lungs refusing to draw breath. Finally, a shaky sound left her mouth, half-strangled cry, half-sigh of relief. "Julian." 

  
**

TBC

**


	5. Part 5

**Disclaimer:** yadda yadda yadda… translation: the Forbidden Game trilogy and all recognizable characters belong to L.J. Smith. 

  
  
  
**

The Resurrection

**

  
_Part 5_

  
  
She wanted to touch him. She really did, just to make sure that he was really there before her. But she was afraid even that, that one touch, was likely to lead to more. And more was not a good idea at the moment, not in front of the Shadow Men. 

"Julian." His name left her lips a second time, in a whisper, but even then it was more articulate than the strangled gasp she had emitted earlier. 

Those impossibly heavy lashes fluttered rapidly, eyes opening slowly as if waking from sleep. His head lifted and turned, a single angled movement, his gaze locking on her own. And Jenny was lost, lost in the confused cobalt eyes. 

Before she could stop to think about what she was doing, Jenny launched herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over in his surprise. She felt his hands come up hesitantly to rest on her back, while hers roamed unabashedly over his shoulders, through his hair, over his face… anywhere necessary to reassure her of his presence. 

She fought the urge to smother him in kisses because right now she wanted to be able to see him and look into his eyes. They were even more incredible than she remembered them—as blue as the arctic waters or the Colorado sky. Sapphires in the sculpted, ivory planes of his face. 

"Jenny?" His musical voice soft, wondering, questioning. 

She released a smile that threatened to consume her features. "Yes." 

One hand came up and gently caressed the side of her face. "I would say this is just another one of my dreams…" 

"But?" 

"But you're wearing clothes." 

It took a moment for Julian's words to sink into her brain, but when they did, the response was instantaneous. 

"What?" Without actually leaving his embrace, she jerked back and regarded him with ripe indignation. "You've been having naked dreams about me?" she squealed. 

He didn't even blink, his eyes just as innocent as they had been a moment earlier. "You haven't been having any about me?" 

She gaped at him without replying, though her face flamed up, all but answering his question in that single gesture. 

"So, what's the problem?" Knowing smirk, same as ever, and if it weren't for the fact that there was no Tom to worry about now, she could have sworn the last eight years had never passed. 

"You have an awfully high opinion of yourself," she replied, giving him a withering glare. Okay, it was nowhere near withering, since it was taking most of her concentration to keep her smile from resurfacing. The issue of naked dreams aside, this was still a reunion she had been looking forward to for so very long. 

Julian raised one dark eyebrow in response. "Coming from the woman who practically mauled me and is straddling me as we speak." 

He was right about that, Jenny realized. When she had jumped on him, he had fallen, still kneeling, onto his lower legs, and now she sat on his thighs. She tried to pull away, her bag banging against her hip with the movement, but Julian's grip was firm on her back. 

Oh God, the Shadow Men. Jenny's gaze ripped away from his and she glanced about the cold cavern, but to her surprise, they were alone, the two of them. The Shadow Men had left. It was strange because she hadn't even noticed their departure. But then, she had been understandably distracted at the time. 

"What's wrong?" The words brought both her attention and her gaze back to Julian. 

"The Shadow Men, they're gone." 

Her answer seemed to kill his light mood and he glanced about at their surroundings for the first time. Of course, now was the time for those dreaded questions and worse, their answers. 

His grip loosened, and then tightened as he lifted them both to their feet. Setting her on the ground to support her own weight, his arms remained around her. 

"How?" he asked simply, his demanding gaze holding her in place. 

"How what, exactly?" she replied weakly, a frail attempt to bide her time until she could come up with the most suitable way in which to reveal her deal. 

Julian was not fooled by her tactics. "Jenny." 

She bit her lip and managed to keep from tearing her eyes away from his intense stare. In a small voice she replied, "I offered them a game." 

"You what?" He dropped his arms and took a step back. 

Shivering from the sudden cold that invaded her body as she was left outside his protective circle, she wrapped her own arms around herself in a feeble attempt to recapture the lost warmth. 

"Um, a game," she repeated, sure it was quite unnecessary. "For your runestave." 

His eyes closed briefly and a muscle in his jaw twitched. When he reopened them she saw something there that made her want to retreat, that threatened to make her cower before from him. But she forced herself to remain where she was and brave whatever came her way. 

"Why in the world would you do something so stupid?" 

Jenny blinked in surprise, all fear and joy forgotten in that instant. "What?" Her voice came out sounding so small and hurt. She stared back into the sizzling, electric glare, knowing now the full scale of what she had seen there. Fury. Pure and simple, and directed, in its entirety, at her. 

"Why did you come back?" he demanded. Leaning in toward her, every bit as dangerous and menacing as the predator he truly was. "You were safe. I made sure of it." 

Oh. 

Suddenly comprehending what was going on, Jenny felt her fear begin to fade, and her own anger snap into place. Her hands came up and she shoved him in the chest. Of course, he didn't budge an inch, but the gesture was clear, as was its message. "Cut it out," she snapped. 

For a moment, the only emotion that occupied his face was surprise. But, as always, Julian was quick to recover from the blow. "Cut what out?" he growled in return. 

"This whole trying to make me hate you thing. You've done it before, you know. Really Julian, predictability is not flattering on you," she stated, smug in the knowledge that she had figured him out and failed to behave as he had anticipated. 

Another mercurial mood shift claimed him and he relaxed in his stance, the anger pouring out of him. He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression one of mild amusement. "So, this is supposed to make us even then?" 

"Doesn't it?" 

"Hardly," he replied. "You haven't exactly 'saved' me. In fact, you've just made me worse off by offering me up as a stake in this whole game." 

Jenny paused. She hadn't told him about that part yet. "How did you know that?" 

He gave her a derisive look and replied, "I know my elders well enough to know how their minds work. What I don't understand is how you managed to get this far, untouched." Sliding forward, he traced the oval shape of the pendant hanging from her neck—but not the rune itself, for even a simple gesture like that could unwittingly invoke its power—his eyelids lowering under the heavy weight of his lashes. She willed herself not to shiver under his touch, forced herself to remain absolutely still beneath the movements. "But I do have an idea." 

Jenny's own hand came up. It was meant to slap his away. Instead, it enclosed around his fingers, gentle and almost caressing, pulling it back just enough to break contact with the amulet. The corner of Julian's lip curled up slightly as their flesh met. 

And because it was suddenly so very difficult to breathe, and she knew it was anger, or irritation at least, that she should be experiencing, not this—whatever it was—she did the only thing she could think of. She distracted him. 

"I can beat them," she whispered a little breathily, heart fluttering in her chest. 

The flirtatious smile disappeared and his hand slipped out of hers. He took a step back, the spell broken, his mood abruptly and completely shifting to the other extreme. 

"It's different this time," he replied, voice cold, his words dripping like icicles 

Too overwhelmed to react immediately, Jenny found herself staring up at him a moment before she realized that her hand was still held in mid-air, where he had left her grip. She let it drop numbly to her side. 

"Why?" 

"Because you're not just playing against one Shadow Man—you're playing against them all. And they're far older and crueler than you could imagine. They won't hold back the way I did." 

"You, hold back?" she replied incredulously. "I think your period of non-existence has left your pretty little head a little murky. When did you ever hold anything back?" She paused, eyes widening minutely as she realized what she'd just said. Face reddening slightly, she absorbed Julian's amused grin and single quirked eyebrow. 

At least, the previous tension had dissipated, even if it had done so at Jenny's expense. Sullenly, she concluded, "I beat you fair and square. You're just a poor loser." 

Julian suppressed his smirk and let out an exaggerated sigh. "And you're an ungracious winner." 

"But a winner nonetheless," she replied, satisfied that she had managed at least that concession. 

Julian shifted his attention from her, turning once more to look about the cavern carefully. "What sort of game is this?" There didn't seem to be any anger now, just concentration as he evaluated their situation. 

"A maze. They gave me a riddle; a clue to where we are." She recited it for him, pausing a couple of times to make sure she had the words just right. 

When she was done, he remained standing as he was, head bowed slightly, thoughtfully. The frost-colored hair fell forward again, into his eyes and she wondered how that could not bother him. It bothered her just looking at it, and her hand itched with the desire to brush the strands away. 

"'Good finds it reward and Death its King,'" he repeated softly, so soft that she almost didn't hear him. He glanced alternately at the two tunnels, and then turned back toward Jenny. "Did you come through either of those?" 

Shaking her head, "I came through the disappearing door." She shifted on her feet, awaiting further comment. "Do you know where we are?" 

"I have an idea," he replied. Without elaborating, he began to walk in the direction of one of the tunnels. Annoyance flickering briefly through the nervousness she had otherwise been feeling, Jenny followed after a moment. 

"Would you care to share that idea?" she drawled, keeping in pace with his steps, but making no attempt to lessen the lead he had on her. They continued like this for a while, until she was almost sure he wasn't going to answer. 

But then Julian stopped abruptly, turning on his heels to face her. They had reached the archway of the passage, she realized. It was much closer than she had first imagined, the shadows of the dark cavern giving the illusion of distance greater than there actually was. Especially here, at the end, the light was so dim she could barely make out more than the outlines of Julian's body. His black clothes blended perfectly with the darkness, leaving his pale hair and features exposed in stark contrast. 

Even here, his blue eyes blazed with a defiant brightness. "Do you know much of Greek mythology?" 

Jenny paused, frowning. "Well, I know the myth of Hades and Persephone," she replied dryly, and she could see his teeth flash in a slight grin. "And a little bit of what I picked up from watching Xena, but that's about it." 

"Xena?" 

Oh right, post-Julian. "Never mind." 

"Well," he said finally, "That myth is actually a lot more helpful than you might think, because we're in the Underworld." 

For a moment she said nothing, thinking that she must have misheard him. He couldn't have said they were in the Underworld. The Underworld was where the dead went, and last Jenny checked, she was very much alive. "We're what?" 

"The Underworld. Kingdom of Hades. Where 'Death finds it King.'" 

Jenny swallowed and glanced back into the cavern. "Are you sure that's what it means? What about the rest of it? Maybe you got it wrong." 

"No," he answered firmly. "Right now, we're under the Palace of Hades. This is the passage the souls of the dead must follow to get to Elysium… basically, the equivalent of Heaven." 

"'Good finds its reward,'" she mumbled. 

"Yes. One tunnel leads back toward the entrance, our way out, and the other leads to the Elysian Fields." 

Jenny glanced from one to the other, seeing no differences to account for which led where. "How do we know which one to choose?" 

"We don't. Trial and error." 

"You're kidding," she replied, rewarding him with a look that told him just what she thought of his current mental state. "This isn't some math problem. If we choose the wrong one, won't there be some severe repercussions?" 

He gave an indifferent shrug and glanced back to the other tunnel. "Not if we realize our mistake and turn back." 

She wasn't pleased with his casual attitude and was tempted to tell him such. Instead, she said, "Why this one?" 

"Why not?" 

Jenny rolled her eyes and threw up her hands in defeat. "Who can argue with such logic?" She peered into the gaping threshold before her and found she could make out little in the path beyond. "Why don't you lead, oh wise one?" 

He shrugged again, turning his back to her as he headed into the darkness. "Why not?" Even though she couldn't see his face, she was sure there was an expression of amusement there. 

Jenny ground her teeth and kept any response she might have had to herself. That hazy feeling of being in the middle of a dream had already faded, leaving her to face the reality of her situation. 

"Oh, hold on a sec." He waited as she pulled open the flap of her bag and fumbled about until her fingers enfolded around the object she sought. Yanking out the black flashlight, she flipped the switch and let the brightness spread out before her. 

He went ahead of her, completely indifferent as to whether he walked in the dark or with the aide of the flashlight. She recalled that he could see in the dark probably as well as she could in the day—a perk, she supposed, of enduring your whole existence in the shadows—so the light was completely for her benefit. 

She stumbled over an unnoticed stone and caught herself on the outstretched arm before, her fingers digging into the leather of his sleeve. Julian waited until she regained her balance before reaching down and grasping her by the forearm, to guide her along. 

Suddenly self-conscious of the warmth of his hand that permeated the material of her sweater to the flesh beneath, she tried to distract herself. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" 

A soft sigh drifted to her ears. "We aren't going to get very far if you keep questioning my every decision." 

"Well, forgive me if I fail to put my trust in your judgment," she shot back. "You haven't exactly given me much reason to trust you in the past." 

"I could say the same about you," he replied easily. "But at least _I_ kept to my word." 

"Oh, get over it will you?" she grumbled irritably. "You hardly gave me a choice in the whole matter. That was the one and only time I ever intentionally broke a promise, and it was eight years ago. A lot has cha—" 

Jenny yelped as her progress came to sudden halt when she collided into Julian's chest. Her flashlight dropped to the ground, flickering off with the impact and leaving her in the encompassing darkness. Her natural instinct to panic was overridden temporarily by her annoyance, and she was just about to throw a biting remark his way when his words stopped her. 

"Eight years?" She couldn't make out his features in the blackness, but his tone was ominous. 

It was eerie knowing that he could see her perfectly when she couldn't see him at all, but now didn't seem to the appropriate time to fumble about to find the fallen light. Well, she could always ask Julian to retrieve it, but that sounded even worse. So she resigned herself to the imbalance of the current situation. 

She wondered how she must appear to him, now that he was probably studying her intently. In fact, she had been a little surprised that he had not noticed the changes immediately; after all, the difference between sixteen and twenty-four was vast, even in the purely physical sense. Her straight hair hung halfway down her back now and she almost always wore it loose, even though through the course of their relationship, Tom had still preferred it up. Her face was leaner, not thin, but the last traces of childhood softness gone, while other areas were fuller. 

Jenny didn't respond, for this was nothing to say. Cool fingers enclosed around her left hand, and she jerked slightly, but did not withdraw. She felt his thumb rub over the plain band on her finger and knew that he recognized it. That he hadn't noticed it before, and perhaps its presence was confusing him now. 

"Where's Tom?" he asked softly. 

"Um, at home, I guess." The soft movement continued. "No, actually… he's probably at work." 

Thoughts were muddling inside her head as he continued to stroke her finger, the back and forth motion across her flesh causing her breathing to grow shallower. Her lips parted slightly and her head tilted back in unconscious anticipation—and invitation. She waited, eyelids growing heavy. The stroking stopped. 

"You haven't been wearing this long." 

Her breathing stopped entirely and her eyes snapped wide open, even though it did nothing to aid her sight. There was utter silence until the harsh exhale of air broke it. 

"No." 

He released his grasp and her hand fell back to her side. A shuffling noise in the darkness and she could sense him moving. The flashlight clicked back on and he held it out, the base toward her. 

"Thanks," she muttered, taking it from him. 

Without a backward glance, he turned and continued their trek. 

  
**

TBC

**


	6. Part 6

**Disclaimer:** Jenny, Julian, the FG trilogy, etc. etc., belong to L.J. Smith. I'm just using them without permission. 

**A/N:** Whew, it's been a while since the last update, huh? To everyone who's been reading and reviewing this from the beginning, I'm really sorry. School's just been getting a little hectic lately and I seem to be experiencing a shortage of time. And then I wrote the chapter, but I changed my mind about a really pivotal part of it, so… it was back to the blank page. But I promise not to take so long the next time. And without further ado, I give you… more Julian! 

  
  
  
**

The Resurrection

**

  
_Part 6_

  
  
Jenny was feeling a little on the miserable side. All her expectations regarding their "reunion" had been shattered, as wholly and abruptly as dishes falling on some dingy diner floor. And now she was left staring at the remaining shards like the wide-eyed waitress in her first week on the job, wondering just how much was going to be deducted from her pay. Not to mention the mess and the cleaning involved. 

She was beginning to have some serious doubts. For instance, what if this game truly was as impossible as Julian professed? Then all this—her apparent sacrifice—would have been for nothing. And it didn't help that Julian was doing nothing to motivate her in her desire to win. The prize, even if she somehow managed that, wasn't looking especially welcoming. Nor was he acting very hospitable. 

Managing a discrete, sidelong glance in his direction, she found herself struck by something she had only vaguely noted earlier, a half-formed thought she hadn't allowed to blossom in her distraction. He seemed somehow... different. Still as dangerous, mysterious, and violently beautiful as ever—but also changed. 

"Are you alright?" she asked suddenly. When he looked toward her, eyes sparkling like amethysts, she quickly elaborated. "You seem… edgy." It was true. She hadn't noticed before, but despite his nonchalant exterior, something was bothering him. 

He took a while to answer, and when he did, there was almost a defensive quality to his voice. His tone was guarded, like he was unsure just how much to reveal. "I feel strange—different." 

Jenny stared at him. "Different, how?" she asked slowly. Her loosely held flashlight turned in his direction, catching his features and painting his hair in a warm orange tint. 

That perfectly sculpted mouth turning downward ever so slightly. Then he shook his head. Not dismissively, but as if he didn't quite know how to answer. "I just feel more—aware—of myself. I can _feel_ everything. My arms, my legs... and they all feel heavier—" 

He cut off suddenly and looked at her. He had stopped walking. Jenny knew that she hadn't entirely contained the growing sense of unease that she felt spawning from the pit of her stomach and outward. It wasn't easy keeping the guilty expression from creeping up on her face. Not when she was just realizing what was going on, and how largely responsible she was for it. 

His eyes gleamed in the dim tunnel and he tilted his head slightly as he peered at her. "You know something." It was a statement, not a question. 

"Yes," she offered hesitantly. 

She wasn't eager to explain this part to him, because she suddenly had no idea how he was going to react. Oh, she had thought she'd known, that she had constructed the perfect little plan—the standard rescue operation, where they would forgive and forget all past difficulties and everything would be just wonderfully perfect. And of course she was wrong. Because she had somehow forgotten everything she had ever learned about Julian in all the time she had been forced into his company, and though she could blame it on the eight years that had passed between them, the truth was she had probably blinded herself to the truth, on purpose. Put on her rose-tinted glasses and forgotten the impossibility that was him. 

She had made the most unforgivable of mistakes when it came to Julian. She had tried to predict how he would react. One could never make predictions—should never try to make predictions—when it came to Julian. His unpredictability was perhaps the only consistent thing about him. 

"What is it? What's wrong with me?" There was no worry in his voice, and certainly no fear. But clearly, he wasn't pleased. 

"Oh no, there's nothing _wrong_ with you," Jenny rushed to clarify. "It's just that—something _has_ changed. You have." 

Julian brought his arms up, crossing them over his chest, and regarded her with an expression that could almost be termed amusement, except it was clouded in annoyance. "You're doing an astounding job of answering nothing. If that's what you were going for." 

She took a deep breath and tried an approach. "You always said how lonely it was to have to watch from the shadows but to never be a part of the world that you watched." She paused there, partly for emphasis, and partly for confirmation. Julian stared back at her silently, his arms still resting in what was now appearing, more and more like a defensive posture, rather than the insolently relaxed pose of earlier. 

Well, he didn't deny the statement, so she supposed that was confirmation enough. "If there was one thing you could change—once we got out of here—what would it be?" 

The silence was deadly, but his voice even more so when he answered. "Don't play with me, Jenny. You've already seen how dangerous games can be." 

She shook her head slowly, a sharp tug in her stomach demanding caution. In a softly earnest voice, she answered. "I'm not playing." A more direct approach was in order. "Would you still want to be a Shadow Man?" Something shifted in his eyes, and the hostility was replaced with curiosity. And maybe something more. "Or would you want to be human?" 

He stared at her a second, and then she felt the shock—and disbelief—that rolled off him, as clearly as if he'd shouted it at her. "You couldn't have done that." His voice quiet. But it weighed on her heavier than the silence. "They wouldn't have agreed to that." 

Her expression answered for her, and he shook his head, no. His face was disbelieving still—but not as disbelieving as it had been a moment earlier. And now that incredulity was less directed toward what she had implied with her words, but more to the connotations. 

Tilting his head forward slightly, tendrils of the frost-colored hair swooped into his eyes, while the sooty lashes lowered and obscured his gaze from her. "Human," he murmured, though she heard his words clearly. There was no other noise to detract from them. 

"Not yet. Or not entirely, I don't think so," she amended. 

Staring up at her through the strands that hung like icicles, he raised one hand to rub his chin thoughtfully. "You don't think so." 

Jenny ducked her head. Yes, she supposed she owed him a more thorough explanation of what he had become. What she had had him turned into. After all, how would she feel if Julian had dropped a bombshell like that in _her_ lap and amended it with something as vague as 'I don't think so.' 

"Well, I asked if you were human now, and they said 'almost.' That your runestave still had power over you. I suppose so that if we lose the game… they can control your fate." 

He was taking it fairly well, and for that she was grateful. Maybe her earlier assumption had been right. Maybe this _was_ what he wanted. 

His eyes had taken on a distant expression, as if he were looking at her but seeing beyond. She brought her hand up tentatively, the fingers barely brushing one sleeve of his duster. 

"Are you angry? Did I make a mistake?" There was an underlying heaviness to her tone. 

Julian's gaze refocused on her and he studied her intently. The hand at his chin reached down and grasped the one she had extended. It was the one with his ring. 

"Let's hope not." 

She frowned but accepted the answer. It was less than what she had hoped for, but more than she'd expected. And just enough ambiguity to leave her wondering what it really meant. 

But he wasn't angry and that was what mattered, right? She had laid that hand of cards on the table and his response had been relatively positive. Well, it hadn't been negative. Not entirely. Or else he wouldn't have spoken so calmly, or taken the hand she had extended, or been… caressing it the way he was? 

Suddenly her attention focused on just what he was doing and she looked up into his eyes questioningly. How hadn't she noticed just how close he had gotten? 

She had thought that a human, mortal Julian would be easier to deal with. That somehow his beauty and attraction would have dimmed a little, controlled. Maybe now she could stand to be around him without wanting to fall into his arms at sight. She had grossly miscalculated. Nothing about him had changed, in either appearance or demeanor. He was still the Julian she remembered—exceedingly difficult, complicated, and irresistible. Of course, she hadn't come to resist him, but since things stood so shakily between them, and considering they had just begun a game that was obviously dangerous enough to worry even him, now probably wasn't the best time to be exploring these kinds of feelings. 

So why was she leaning into his touch? Why were eyes drawn to his mouth, and why was she tilting her head up to— 

Abruptly, Julian dropped his hands and pulled back a few inches. The spell didn't snap, but it weakened enough for Jenny to be brought back to her senses. Or rather, it had allowed her to refocus her senses on everything that was not Julian. She would have been embarrassed at her overwhelming reaction to even his simplest touches—if it hadn't been for the muted desire she glimpsed in his eyes even now. 

He didn't look as if he was going to speak, and silences like this were supposed to be more meaningful than she was ready to deal with. So she filled in the words for him, in wholly unsteady voice. "We should be going, right?" 

He nodded once. "Unless we want to spend the rest of our lives—" he gave special emphasis here— "in this tunnel." Then he smiled at her, that familiar wolf-hungry expression that was almost a comfort to see. _Almost_. "Or at least we can think of more—interesting—things to do than talk." 

Jenny took a step back, "Let's just keep going." 

He gave a shrug, turned, and walked a few long strides. But then he stopped, so abruptly that Jenny almost walked right into him. Not quite; but still, they were close enough that they were sharing personal space. 

She took a deep breath and noted the intoxicating scent of leather—to which she had always been especially susceptible—and managed in a too-flustered voice, "Can you flash the brake lights or something next time? That was a really close call there." Then she took a step, a very large step, back away from him. "And why exactly did you stop?" 

Dark eyebrows raised, he gave her a look over his shoulder. "I'm not especially fond of walking into walls." Jenny moved a pace sideways and glanced at the scene before them. "Although, if you feel differently, be my guest." He gestured with one hand to the dark expanse not more than five feet ahead. 

"Wait a minute," she protested, walking around him toward the obstacle. "This was _not_ here before." Her hand touched the solid form, feeling the smooth rock beneath. "Was it?" A trick? Some sort of illusion—and it wasn't really there at all. Maybe, beyond it the tunnel continued. 

Nothing was ever quite what it appeared to be when it came to the Shadow Men. 

She rapped her knuckles abruptly against it. "Ouch!" Harder than it looked. Or, maybe, as hard as it looked—and that was the problem. 

To his credit, and Jenny's slight relief, Julian did not laugh as he took the injured hand in his own. "Real enough, don't you think?" he inquired, rubbing the red skin with his thumb. 

No, he didn't laugh, not out loud, but his words were fairly dancing with amusement. 

Jenny glared. "Well, I don't see you doing anything about it." She yanked her hand away from him, rubbing the knuckles as if that would somehow help the pain to disappear faster. "Doesn't it strike you as the least bit suspicious? I mean, if the wall was there the whole time, shouldn't either of us have noticed it before now?" 

"So maybe it wasn't there before," he replied easily. 

She watched him quietly. Was there something that she wasn't getting? Or was it him who just couldn't comprehend their situation. Spend too much time on the other end of the rifle and you're bound to find it difficult to think like the deer. "Why doesn't this worry you? This is a dead end," she threw down the words emphatically. "And if what you told me about this place is right, then neither one of the tunnels should end like this. They should both lead _somewhere_." 

He reached out a hand and touched the wall lightly, and drew back almost wonderingly, rubbing the tips of his fingers with his thumb. Almost distractedly, he spoke. "And this bothers you because?" 

Letting out a sigh of aggravation, she rolled her eyes upward. "Because what if this is the right way? What if this is the way we're supposed to go?" Then she placed her hands on her hips and bit out, "Will you please pay attention?" 

Frowning, he stepped away from the barrier. "I am paying attention," he pulled his hands back and shoved them into the pockets of his coat. "But you understand this all very new to me. I can't help that I'm feeling a bit—overloaded." 

There was a strangely sullen set to his mouth that made her think perhaps it wasn't enjoyment he was experiencing. He seemed unsettled, and given his present circumstances, she could hardly blame him. Jenny let out a long breath of air, forcing her irritation down. Teamwork was what it was all about, right? Neither one of them was getting out of here without the other, so it was best if they didn't keep stepping on each other's toes. Well, she would do her part. But there were no guarantees when it came to Julian. 

"Is it really that different?" she asked quietly. She remembered how things had seemed so changed after the first game—everything sharper, clearer, more _real_. People had said she had changed, and maybe she had. Her outlook certainly had. 

But over time she had grown used to it, and in a sense her awareness had faded. Maybe she still saw things differently from how others did, but the newness of it was gone. It was just a part of her now. And she couldn't imagine what it might be like for Julian. 

"Nothing seems the same," he answered, his voice soft. His eyes fairly swam with electricity as they shifted to her face, then to her hair, where his outstretched hand was now reaching. For some reason, when she saw the movement, she didn't stop him. Long strands of the honey blond pooled into the space between his fingertips. "Well, nothing I've tried so far," he amended solemnly. "But there's still a lot left to try." 

Now his hand had drifted over to her cheek, so soft a touch, it lulled her. His fingers were so smooth, so warm. In some recess of her mind, she was surprised by how warm—his flesh had always seemed so cool before, like marble carved to life. 

Her eyes fluttered closed without permission and her head tilted back ever so slightly. And he was tilting it back, pulling her forward until his breath warmed her ear as he whispered. "I'm up for a little experimentation. What about you?" The other hand was resting at her waist now, hovering like a butterfly to take flight any second. He pulled her even nearer. 

But something broke inside Jenny then—abrupt and without warning. She had strength enough to resist. Leaning forward so her own lips were as close to his ears as his to hers, she brought her hands up and rested them on his chest. In a soft but steady voice, "Maybe you should go solo first, before you try it with a partner." 

Then she used all the strength she could muster and shoved him. She overshot. 

Not that one could blame her. There was a time when she would have stood a better chance of breaking down a brick wall with a single push than of moving Julian. But she should have foreseen that with his diminished strength, coupled with the fact that she had caught him so completely off-guard, the scale would have been better balanced in her favor. 

Still, it shouldn't have been a problem. At worst, he would have fallen into the mysterious dead end wall, sustained a few minor bruises, and a slightly more bruised pride. 

That's what _should_ have happened. But it didn't. 

Instead, he fell right _through_ the wall. 

That _shouldn't_ have happened, or so Jenny thought. And judging by the wild blue light that claimed Julian's eyes as he plunged, backward into the yawning black gape—he agreed. 

  
**

TBC

**


	7. Part 7

**Disclaimer:** See previous installments of story. 

  
  
  
**

The Resurrection

**

  
_Part 7_

  
  
_Oh shit._ That was the first thought that came to Jenny's mind as she sprang forward with outstretched hands. 

People were not supposed to fall through walls—it defied all logic. 

But then what did she expect when it came to Julian? _He_ defied all logic. The only rules he ever stuck to were those of his games; the rest he seemed to think below him. 

Her fingers just grazed his, and then she lunged forth a few more inches, until her hand closed around his wrist, pulling her along with him. She was reminded of that time—when they had played lambs and monsters—and at the end when she had pushed him through the vortex. The one he had created to take them through, to the Shadow World. Except then she had acted deliberately. This time it was an accident. 

And then they landed, Julian on the bottom, with Jenny on top. And if that strangled sound that escaped his lips as his back contacted the ground was any indication, it was a painful landing. 

They lay a moment, in stunned silence. Then, "You know, you could have just said no." 

Jenny paused in her recovery and let out a sound that faintly resembled a snort. "Right. When has 'no' ever been enough for you?" 

She was tempted to just pick herself off him, but she didn't want to injure him any further—no, she didn't want to give him something else to guilt her about—with a misplaced knee or stray elbow. Suddenly she stilled, feeling something hard digging into her thigh. God, that better be my flashlight, she told herself silently. With one hand she reached down, her fingers closing around— 

"Your lips say one thing but your hands say something entirely different." 

Eyes widening, her hand froze and she tilted back her head. Then the object moved further into her grasp and she caught his expression. He was laughing—at her. Those too-blue eyes sparkling with silent mirth. She gripped the flashlight and brought both hands up to his chest, launching herself upward. Any stray knees or elbows were completely welcomed now. Fumbling to her feet, she shot him a glare. 

Then she caught sight of their surroundings and froze. The grassy surface beneath them, the sky above… it was a far cry from the dark caverns she had come to expect. 

"Now correct me if I'm wrong," she spoke hesitantly, "but this whole _Underworld_ thing—there's some subterranean element to it?" 

Head dipping back, he peered up at her from the ground. He still hadn't made a move to get up, looking for all the world as if he were perfectly comfortable as was. And far from being bothered by her question, he actually seemed amused. 

"Yes." Far too relaxed for their current situation. Didn't even seem concerned about _why_ she'd asked the question. 

She sent him a hard look, letting him know she didn't share his amusement. "That's what I thought." Her eyes turned back up. "So where exactly is all that sunshine coming from?" A challenging tone to her voice, and a touch—just a touch—of satisfaction. Let him explain _that_. 

It got his attention, at least, as he finally drew his eyes away from her. Standing swiftly he turned to look. 

It was the shade from the rock face behind them, the one through which they had fallen, that had kept them from noticing immediately. Whatever sun was the source of all this light hung in the sky behind it, blocked from their sight. And if one ignored the grassy surface beneath them, it might be possible to believe there was nothing strange about the setting—at least for a brief moment. They had been caught in a small blanket of shadows amidst the brightness. 

With the wall at their backs, directly in front was something as mild as a scene from a park—one that might have been found in any number of suburban neighborhoods, including her own. An open stretch of grass, decorated with a spattering of trees here and there. Bushes, flowers, and what might even have been a pond in the distance. 

Everything else, though, was better than what she would have found anywhere near her own home. The air was pure, clean and tranquil. The sun was bright and warm, but not oppressively hot or muggy like it was in the Californian skies. A perfect expanse of blue that logic dictated should not even have been there—all added up to a scene from the ideal quiet Sunday afternoon. 

It certainly didn't personify any image of the Underworld she'd held. 

Julian brushed off the grass on his jacket. "It seems we picked the wrong one." 

"We?" Jenny blinked. "We picked the wrong one?" She shook her head. "Oh no, _I_ didn't pick anything. In fact, as I remember it, you didn't exactly stop to consult me on the decision—so, no, we didn't pick the wrong one." 

"And as I remember, you didn't suggest any alternatives," he countered easily as he turned to face her. 

"I suggested using a better system than 'why not.'" She felt a little childish arguing like this. But if _she_ felt childish, what about Julian? He was… well, who knew _how_ old he was? 

"Such as what? I must have missed the map with the little red dot labeled 'you are here,'" he said with deliberate seriousness, "Maybe then we could have chosen with a bit more reasoning." 

Barely resisting the temptation to roll her eyes, she turned back to the rock wall through which they'd arrived. The flashlight was useless now; she tossed it back inside her bag. 

As solid-looking here as it had seemed from the other side. But that hadn't meant a thing then, so why should it now? she reasoned. Her hands ran over the surface. Nothing happened. She spared a backward glance at Julian, but he wasn't paying attention. He was staring up at the sky, a strange expression on his face. No, the sun, she realized. He was looking at the sun—he wasn't a Shadow Man anymore and he was looking at the sun. 

Jenny turned away, back to the wall. 

In an increasing radius she searched for something—anything—that could be interpreted as an entrance or exit. But she found none. Finally, letting out a groan of frustration, she leaned back on her heels. 

"Hey," she called back over her shoulder. She hadn't wanted to interrupt, but there were more pressing concerns at hand right now. And if they survived, well then he could spend the rest of his life staring at the sun—the _real_ sun—if that was what he wanted. "You went through first last time—maybe _you_ should give a try." She was only half-serious and honestly doubted it would make a difference who went first, but it was worth a try. 

"I only went through first because you pushed me. Are we going to do that again too?" 

Jenny turned and smiled at him sweetly. "If we have to. But I'm hoping you'll just be cooperative and agree to do this voluntarily." 

"Seems more like under duress," he said. But he joined her anyway. Not that it did any good; his efforts produced results no different from hers. 

A tiny smile appeared on her face as an idea came to mind—payback and exploring their options, both at once—and she acted before she could rethink it. She pushed him. 

This time though, instead of falling straight through the wall, he merely landed against it—shoulder hitting the hard surface and taking the weight of the rest of his body—the way it should have been the first time. Leave it to Julian to start obeying the laws of physics at the most inopportune times. 

Jenny had enough good sense to wipe the look off her face before he recovered. He shot an indignant expression in her direction, his blue eyes sparkling with dangerous electricity. She kept her face as straight as possible—it wasn't generally a good idea to pour water on live wires. "What was that for?" he said slowly in a low voice. 

Managing an admirably innocent-looking shrug, "You gave me the idea," she replied. "I thought I'd give it a try. You know, just in case. Leave no stone unturned." 

The fire in his gaze cooled as quickly as it had heated. "Well, this upturned stone would appreciate it if next time you gave him some fair warning." He rolled the shoulder that had landed against the wall. "My first day in a mortal body…" He shook his head. "You seem to enjoy causing me physical pain." 

She frowned and said, "When else did I cause you physical pain?" 

"When you landed on top of me—" he gave her a pointed look—"the _first_ time you pushed me." 

"When I landed on top of you?" she repeated disbelievingly. The frown grew deeper as her eyes narrowed. "Are you calling me _fat_?" 

He smiled—a very unusual thing to do for a man in his current position. The few times that Tom had cornered himself into a similar spot, he had worn a look that resembled the one Jenny saw on his face the day of the first game—in the lobby of the paper house, when Julian had faced him with his fear of rats. 

Reaching for her, his arms encircled her waist and he pulled her to him before she could react. "No, I didn't say that. And I would show you exactly what I think, but you have tendency to push me away just then." Always enchanting, his voice was. Promising things forbidden and tempting without illusion. If you got sucked in by his hypnotic tones, you knew exactly what you were getting into. And you didn't care—because that was how much you _wanted_ it. 

Her anger quelled, though reluctantly; the sudden discomfort of being so close to him caused the shift in emotions. She squirmed out of his grasp and took a couple of steps back. It was not, she stubbornly told herself, the same as pushing him away. "You have bad timing," she said, glancing away, unable to meet his eyes. 

Even though she wasn't looking at him, she could feel his gaze burning into her face. "And you think that at another time your response might have been different?" 

Jenny hesitated. She wasn't sure she wanted to head in this direction right now; she wasn't sure about the wisdom of bringing up a topic that was such a sore point between them. Especially when they should have been focused on working together, and getting out of here. Finally, she said, "At a better time, yes." 

He brushed her face, tilted her head so she _had_ to look at him. "When exactly would that have been?" Softly, he spoke, his words quiet. But then, with Julian, she remembered, the softness was as dangerous as anything else. The softness was a deception—even if not deliberate—because it contradicted his very nature. 

"I don't know." She shook her head and his hand fell away. Hadn't she asked that question enough times herself? And in the end, she simply didn't have an answer for it. It always came down to Tom—her and Tom. "We shouldn't be talking about this right now." 

"Yes, leave the conversation for a better time. Right?" he said harshly. His quicksilver mood had transformed once again. Jenny winced. 

"Julian—" 

He interrupted with a quick gesture of his hand. "No, you're right. Not now." But the darkness that haloed his head spoke otherwise. He didn't agree because he didn't understand; he was just angry. But angry enough not to listen, to not want to hear whatever she had to say. And once Julian made up his mind, there was no changing it. 

"So, what? What do we do now?" It was a double-edged sword and Julian chose the duller side. 

"We find an exit and get out of here." 

She supposed she should have been grateful. The duller side was less likely to cut. "Okay." But then, wasn't it also supposed to be more painful? 

There was only one problem with his answer. "How do we do that? I mean, what if it's like the way we came here? Then the only way we'd be able to tell that it's even there is to go right up to it." She shook her head. "And we can't go around groping every square inch of surface area in this place. We might not have a time limit, but at some point we're going to get hungry and we're going to need to sleep." She caught his look and added in a wry voice, "Yes, you too." 

Julian let out something close to a sigh, one half of his mouth twitching downward. "Who knew being mortal would be so… _tedious_?" She would have laughed, but for the serious expression on his face. Not that it wasn't still funny—she just didn't think he would appreciate the humor in it. "Well, I'm thinking it wouldn't be anywhere nearby. Of course, that would be far too easy," he drawled. 

Jenny rubbed a weary hand across her eyes. She didn't doubt his words; in fact, she'd been thinking the same thing. "So we just start walking, blindly, like we did the last time." And see where _that_ got us, she added silently. 

"Well, sooner or later we should run into someone. And then maybe they'll point us in the right direction." 

Her eyes widened. "People, here? You mean like… the spirits of the dead?" She had known this was supposed to be where they dwelt, but for some reason she hadn't actually expected to _see_ them. The thought was too disturbing, regardless of whether or not this place was "real." 

"The good ones. You know the kind—obeyed their mothers and fathers; ate their Wheaties every morning; helped little old ladies cross the street." 

"And the others end up in Tartarus," she finished for him. 

"Some," he agreed. She didn't ask about the rest. 

"Wait. Look," she said, placing a restraining hand on Julian's arm. He followed the direction of her gaze. "That looks like a trail, doesn't it?" 

A stretch of fine gravel leading away from them disappeared somewhere into the line of trees beyond. The contrast of light gray against green grass was harder to make out under the brightness of the sun. "It certainly looks like it's meant to be followed." 

Jenny took in a short breath of air that she quickly cut off from becoming a sigh, "I'll take that as a yes." Suddenly remembering where her hand was still resting, she dropped her arm. "Should we follow it?" 

His sapphire gaze moved from the path back to her. Then he took a step back and watched her. "Your choice." 

Jenny paused. For a second she wondered if maybe she had misunderstood. But there was very little leeway for interpretation with such a simple phrase. Julian was leaving it up to her—and he was, presumably, willing to follow _her_ directions. 

"What?" 

He flashed an amused smile but crossed his arms over his chest, one gesture relaxed and nonchalant, the other defiant and challenging. "I did pick last time, with the tunnel. And when that didn't turn out quite as well as one might have hoped—well, I just figured you might want to put whatever strategy you've developed to use." 

Uh-huh. He wasn't fooling her. "In other words, you're saying that if I screw up, I'll have no one to blame but myself." 

A slight shrug of his shoulders, and a look that indicated he really wasn't concerned with the semantics. "Or maybe I just don't want to give you an excuse to hit me again." 

She resisted a smile. "Those were not excuses. Besides," she shook her head, "I never _hit_ you." 

Then she looked back to her choice. Okay, fine, if this was how he wanted to play it, she was fully prepared to accept the challenge. "Well then, let's go." Besides, it looked harmless enough. This was supposed to be a _good_ place. A safe place. They'd only wound up here by accident; the dangers should be waiting for them at the end of the _other_ passage. 

"And how did you make your decision?" he asked. He followed nonetheless. 

She sent him a sideways glance and found him staring back with those fathomless eyes. It was easy to pretend that now, just because he was _mortal_, that that made him _human_. But it didn't. Because despite it, he was still Julian, still the Shadow Man, member of an impossibly ancient alien species, still the one who had put her and her friends through hell before revealing that he was truly capable of vaguely human emotion. 

Being mortal didn't make him much less dangerous. 

Turning away, she concentrated on their surroundings. "I just did." 

It really was quite beautiful, faintly resembling some of the manicured parks back home, the tourist-type settings where people went to take their pictures after the wedding. The type of place she had planned to have her own pictures taken, except that she hadn't managed that first part. 

Jenny stifled a sigh at this direction of thoughts. This was one part of her plan she hadn't carefully considered—hadn't _allowed_ herself to consider, because there was no good, clean answer in this case: How was she ever supposed to explain this to Tom? 

If she got through this game, came back with Julian, what would he think? For crying out loud, a month ago they had still been engaged—what was he _supposed_ to think? 

They were still friends; it was hard not to be, when they had shared so much of their lives with each other. But this was not exactly the sort of thing that would go over well, friendship or no to act as a buffer. 

Dee would be hard enough, but Dee would get over it. She understood—or had _tried_ to understand—the problems between her and Tom. And now that she had Devon, now that she finally found herself in a serious, committed relationship, maybe she could really understand the lengths to which one might go for love. 

Maybe it would have been easier to explain to Tom, or to Dee, if she herself understood it better. But even the love aspect of this was entirely too confusing. Julian was confusing. She remembered him being one way, and now—well, he wasn't _completely_ different, but he _was_ different. He wasn't the boy she remembered holding in the cramped hallway of her grandfather's house—the one who asked her to dream of him, to not let him be forgotten. He wasn't proclaiming his love—he hadn't even mentioned the word. And sure, he was being flirtatious, but that didn't exactly mean much. She wondered whether the other Shadow Men might have done something to him, when they were bringing him back, but that didn't seem likely. They had _said_ the only changes they made involved his powers—making him mortal—and they were supposed to be a race that lived off their word. Sportsmanship. Fair play. This wasn't their style. No, more likely, it was just Julian. 

All in all, it was giving her a headache and she wished she could just push it all away, at least temporarily. 

"You 'just did,'" he was saying, his voice mocking in a pinch, "Well that's just leagues better than 'why not.'" 

Jenny gave him a weary look, the slight pounding sensation at her right temple turning up a notch. "Look, can't we pretend—for a little while—to get along. Just since we _are_ playing on the same side." 

He returned her look with an innocent expression and put up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "I've been all for promoting our interpersonal relations. You're the one who keeps refusing—violently, I might add—all my suggestions." 

"Your idea of 'interpersonal relations' isn't helping us either!" she suddenly exploded. "I don't know how you can take this all as lightly as you do. You're the one who kept repeatedly stressing just how serious our situation is! Can't you just drop all the pretense and that Shadow Man image of yours—and for once act on how you really feel?" 

Sighing in exasperation, she turned to walk away. But quick as a cat pouncing, he snatched her wrist, yanking her back. He spun her in a twirling motion, like the final move of some intimate dance, both partners finishing face to face—but he pulled too hard and she wound up flush against him. Close enough to feel his warm breath against her face. 

Somehow, she didn't think he'd overshot by accident. 

"What are you—" she choked, trying to escape his grasp. It didn't work and she brought her hands up to his chest, fully prepared to push with all her might. But unlike their previous two experiences, this time he was prepared and he anticipated the move. With one hand he caught both hers, trapping them against the cotton material of his black t-shirt where the two sides of his duster left an opening. 

Shifting between a desire to scream or slap him, she did neither. Instead, she took a third option, one she had been unwilling to admit even to herself because just thinking about it made the action so hard to resist. 

But her resolve was never that strong on this point—and now it had just broken completely. 

So she kissed him. Hard and ferocious, mustering the strength of every pent-up emotion that had been distracting her since the beginning of this ordeal. 

He may have been surprised, or this may have been what he intended all along; she had no way of knowing. And in all honesty, it didn't really matter to her. Not right now, anyway. He certainly took no time in reacting. 

The hand wrapped around her waist managed somehow to pull her closer still, so close that it was difficult to breathe anything but him. The other released her wrists and moved to the back of her neck, then slid further up until it buried itself in her long hair, guiding her head. 

It was better than anything she remembered. It was _more_. 

She'd thought memory had captured it well, like the twilight softness of his lips against hers, the velvet of his hair beneath her fingertips—and it had. But it was the rest she had forgotten, those finer details that couldn't be described in the corporeal terms of her senses. Like the way when he kissed her, he could make her feel like _she_ was perfect. 

That no one in the world was more beautiful or desirable than her. 

She was drowning—or at least her senses were. And she couldn't even _think_ of anything that didn't have to do with Julian. His lips, barely touching, then hard and demanding, and somehow sometimes both at once. 

And it was thrilling. She felt as if she were falling without a safety net, and for once, she didn't care. For once, there was no guilt—not here, not now at least. 

He tilted his head—or maybe it was hers—and she felt him urge her mouth open under his. 

Absolutely no reason to pull away. 

Then a throat cleared behind her. 

Reality came crashing back down, and the spell was broken. She was staring up into twin pools of cobalt, framed with heavy, curled spikes as black as coal. The whirling mass of emotions she glimpsed there reflected her own. But it was only an instant's insight; then he broke the gaze and looked over her shoulder. 

Her face slightly warm, she relaxed back in his arms—not pulling away entirely—but so they were two entities once again, and acting the part. She twisted slightly, turning her head to look, and her already quickened heart beat even faster in anticipation and surprise. 

Then she saw him, standing but a few feet away—silver hair, face worn but kind. Little crow's feet at the corner of each eye and deep grooves around the mouth that hinted at a generous nature, quick with a smile. And a gaze, achingly familiar, green and warm. Jenny felt her breath catch in her throat once more, and this time it had nothing to do with Julian. 

Closing and opening her eyes quickly, she almost half-expected the vision before her to be gone. But it wasn't—_he_ wasn't. 

A strangled sound came from her mouth before she was able to utter the one word singularly occupying her mind. "Grandpa?" 

  
**

TBC

**

  
  
  
If you haven't read my other FG story, "Choices and Consequences", check it out. It's just a one-shot, sorta prologue to this story. 


	8. Part 8

**Disclaimer:** You know, I'm thinking LJS gave up her rights to Julian when she killed him. Shouldn't he be mine now… you know, as a reward for bringing him back? 

**A/N:** I know it's been a while, but this part was reaaally hard to write. Even harder than the last one… although I'm more satisfied with this chapter than I was with the last. Anyway, with these two hurdles out of the way, the next one should be a lot easier to write and hopefully it'll be out sooner than usual. Hopefully. 

  
  
  
**

The Resurrection

**

  
_Part 8_

  
  
That day in the Shadow Park—when she had freed him from the wooden puppet form—Jenny had gotten more than she had ever dared to ask for, to hope for, from her grandfather. She had gotten a chance to thank him, to say she was sorry. To say goodbye. 

Well, she'd _thought_ it was goodbye. It turned out she might have been wrong. 

Not the kind of wrong you could simply shrug off without concern, because everyone makes mistakes once in a while and you're only human. Not the kind of wrong you could just accept without a word, because someone told you so, or even because you saw it with your own eyes. She felt like she'd been punched in the gut; she felt winded. Seeing him, standing there, just the way she remembered him from her childhood, was so painful it was almost _physical_. 

"Grandpa…" she choked out, her eyes widening. She could feel Julian standing behind her—they were still stuck in their half-embrace, and shock froze Jenny to the spot. If her legs gave out, the way they felt like they would any moment now, at least he would catch her. At least she had that. 

"Jenny." Her grandfather smiled. The warm expression, the kind face, weathered face, the thinning white hair, slightly stooped build—she was almost taken in by it all. Almost. 

She shook her head slowly, no… 

"No." 

It couldn't be him, it simply couldn't. She had freed him; she _knew_ she had. And for freeing him, she had given the Shadow Men a new claim, incurred a debt that Julian had paid off in her place. "You're not really him," she informed the apparition. 

The man with her grandfather's face frowned and glanced between her and Julian. "Jenny, it is me. I know it's hard for you to believe that, but—" 

"No, you're lying," she cut him off. 

It wasn't that it was hard for her to believe—it was _impossible_. Because her mind couldn't accept the possibility, the defeat that it implied. The one little thing she had gained from the whole experience, they couldn't take that away from her. 

Besides, he didn't smell like anything. The man she remembered had always been accompanied by that familiar smell of peppermint. Except before, when he'd been trapped inside the form of the mechanical wizard in the Shadow Park 

"It's just not possible. I set you—him—I set _him_ free." Turning to Julian, she repeated, almost pleaded, "I set him free." 

Looking at his face, closed again, it was hard to keep in mind what had happened before. It was hard to remember that the past eight years had passed at all. She remembered how he had looked when he was trying to shut himself off from her last time. After he'd returned Summer and Jenny had tried to convince him that he could change—that he could be _better_. His expression was the same now. His features could have been cut from marble. He was gazing at the other man, but he looked at Jenny as she directed her words at him. 

Oh please, tell me it isn't true, she demanded silently, looking into his eyes. For once, she wasn't astounded by his beauty, not mesmerized by his exotic flair. She could stare into the depths of the sapphire and not feel like she was drowning, or flying, or both at once. 

He would know, wouldn't he? He would know and he would tell her that everything was fine—that this wasn't her grandfather, wasn't anyone at all, just a trick of the Shadow Men. Just a part of the game. But when he spoke, in a quiet, serious voice, he shattered her hopes. 

"It is. It's really him." 

It took a moment for the words to sink in. But when they did, her reaction was almost immediate. 

As if burned, Jenny snatched back her hands. They had been clutching at his shirt—she hadn't even realized it until now. In the same moment, she stumbled back two steps, away from him. Vaguely, she realized how very much she must have resembled a cornered alley cat, eyes wide and flitting between the two figures. From the concerned-looking man who was supposed to be her dead grandfather, to Julian's indecipherable features. 

She stared at Julian accusingly. 

That wasn't what she wanted—needed—to hear. She needed to hear that she was right, that he wasn't really her grandfather. Her _real_ grandfather was safe, where the Shadow Men could never get him. 

Her voice came out mildly frantic as she spoke. "You said they had no claim, that their debt was cancelled when they carved out your name. _That's what you said!_" She took another step backward. "He was supposed to be free!" 

"Jenny, just calm down." He tried to grab her hand, to pull her back to him, but she slipped out of his grasp immediately. 

"Don't," she hissed in a low, deceptively even voice. "Don't you tell me to calm down. Just tell me the truth." He didn't answer right away, instead sharing a look with the other man, and _that_ made her angry. "Tell me the truth!" 

She glanced at them both, not knowing what to believe, what to think. Her breath was coming out heavier than normal, her hands clenched at her sides. This time when he reached for her she didn't just avoid him, but knocked his hand away with her own. Something flashed in his eyes momentarily, something that should have stopped her, or at least caused her to pause—to reconsider—something that wasn't anger. She chose to ignore it. 

"Jenny, please," the man she was trying to convince wasn't whom he claimed to be, pleaded. An ache in her heart as she looked at him told her just how close she was to losing the battle. He just _seemed_ so much like her grandfather. Every feature, every mannerism, just so much like the man she remembered… 

Suddenly, a hand grasped her chin, and fingers pushed her cheek until her head turned. She was looking into a pair of very blue, very stern eyes. "Listen to me," Julian said and she did, trapped not only by his hand, but also by the quiet intensity of his gaze. He nodded, seeing her compliance. 

"He _is_ your grandfather. You _did_ set him free." Her lips parted, to speak, to protest that both could not be true. With a shake of his head, he cut her off. "The claim—the debt—was paid. This," he made a general indication of their present surroundings, though his eyes never left hers, "is not a trick, not something the Shadow Men made up. You set him free." He emphasized his words, speaking slowly, deliberately. 

She shook her head again, not in denial but confusion this time. Releasing his firm hold, his hands slipped to her shoulders. "What are you saying… that the Underworld is _real_?" Turning her head, she looked at her grandfather, who stood watching the exchange silently. "This isn't just a part of the game?" 

Julian sighed. 

Gently, she removed his hands, letting them fall back to his sides. If that really was her grandfather, she felt strange acting so—familiar—with Julian. _Former_ Shadow Man though he was, how could she forget all that his kind had forced her grandfather to endure during his twelve-year long imprisonment? His lack of reaction so far surprised her. Maybe he simply hadn't recognized him—after all, Julian was so unlike the rest. Physically perfect while the others had grown grotesque with age. 

"You don't seem to believe me." 

She didn't _believe_ him? Was he surprised? Had he really expected her to? 

It defied everything she knew… it went against the basic principles of… 

It was crazy! 

"Because it can't be true. The Underworld isn't a real place. It…" She shook her head. "It's not real." 

And she had thought the same about runes, the Shadow Men, and doorways to other worlds. 

Even before he spoke, she remembered her own words of long ago. _"That's a story… A myth. There's no such person as Hades."_ And his reply then had been the same then— 

"Are you sure?" 

A sudden chill struck Jenny, defying the warmth that surrounded them. If _this_ was real, as the runes had been, how much else of the things she had always assumed were fiction were actually true? What about vampires and witches… and Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy? 

Her fingers massaged her temples, trying to fight off the building throbbing sensation. 

"But, I don't get it. It's all Greek mythology, and everything else—the runes, the nine worlds—it's Norse. Which is true?" 

He lowered his eyes, then looked back up at her, but his eyelids drooped as if they were heavy with some knowledge. And he didn't look like he wanted to share. In that instant, he reminded her more than ever of the boy from the games, the one who'd been playing on the other side. So secretive and mysterious—she wondered how she could ever have thought she knew him, _understood_ him. 

"Both, actually, and neither really. They're like pieces of a puzzle, fitting together to help form a bigger picture. Except sometimes the details are wrong—off. Human mythology. It isn't complete and not always accurate." 

"Oh. Okay. So if this _is_ the Underworld," she said calmly, slowly, "there really is such a person as Hades." 

His hesitation to respond tipped her off on the answer. "Not exactly a person—but yes." 

Jenny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could deal with this, really she could. And if not now then later, when she could afford herself the opportunity to dwell on it. Her gaze flickered open again. 

"Grandpa," she breathed, for the first time, a sense of acknowledgement in the word. 

His answering smile was small and gentle, as if he didn't want to scare her off with more. She felt her own lips curve up slightly in response, and she reached for him. 

A hand enclosed around her upper arm, halting her progress. She turned, gave Julian a questioning glance. "You can't touch him." 

She frowned. "What?" A quick peek at her grandfather, then she looked back at Julian. 

"Try it," he suggested. 

So she did. And when her hand reached his arm, it simply passed right through. Like with the wall earlier, except there was a slight shimmering as it happened. Then she could actually _see_ her fingers beyond his now mildly transparent form. 

She tried it again, and the same results were the same. 

"What's going on?" Who the question was directed at—if anyone in particular—she didn't know. Pulling back her hand, she stared at like it was something alien, as if there might be something there to explain what had happened. 

Julian answered. "It's how it is here. The spirits can't be grasped." 

Oh, she looked at her grandfather with wide eyes, was that what he was? A spirit. But of course, she supposed she should have guessed it. Hadn't she released him knowing that the gift she gave him was death? Gebo—rune of sacrifice. That was the rune she had etched upon the machine, the one she had traced with her blood. 

And the sacrifice hadn't been the fact that by releasing them, she had unknowingly given herself up in his place. It had been the part about _letting him go_. 

Jenny glared unhappily. After her unexpected reunion with the man to whom she owed so much—her life—she couldn't even touch him, hug him, revel in the comfort of being wrapped up in his arms. And it wasn't a trick of the Shadow Men, so why was here? What had brought him across their path? 

"Jenny, I can show you how to get out." 

She stared at her grandfather uncertainly. "You know why we're here… you know about the game?" He nodded and she felt a heavy sinking sensation in her stomach. 

"No," he said gently, shaking his head. He reached out as if to take her hand, but they both realized the futility of the gesture at the same time. Releasing a sigh, he continued. "You don't have to feel guilty. I understand." 

Jenny wasn't so sure about that. But she didn't contradict him. She didn't know how much he knew of what was really going on—but maybe if he didn't know everything, it was better. 

No, the truth was, she was afraid. Afraid that if he knew, he might be angry, that he might even _hate_ her for what she had done. After barely escaping the last time, here she was again, and this time facing off against the Shadow Man in order to save _one of them_. One who may never have hurt him directly, but had nevertheless failed to lift a finger to help him. 

Julian nodded onward. "Then lead us." 

It was a silent trip. The conditions weren't very enticing for conversation. Being led by her dead grandfather, side-by-side with a former, almost-human Shadow Man, circumstances were a little—straining. She felt a sudden longing for her friends, the ones who had faced Julian's games by her side. 

Dee would have been her first choice. Sane, calm and levelheaded no matter what the situation, she would have handled this so much better. Actually, no, with her kick-ass attitude—and no monsters yet, no cave-ins, no giant metal lions attacking anyone's arms—she probably would have been defeated by the lack of action. 

Not that Jenny was complaining about that. A shortage of near-death experiences was nothing to take for granted, especially not when traipsing through the Underworld and the stakes were your life and soul. Except it was making her a little wary, putting her on an edge. She wondered if the anticipation was worse than whatever they might have thrown their way. 

Probably not. Wishful thinking. 

The warm sun was beginning to take its toll and she rolled up the sleeves of her sweater the same time Julian removed the leather duster. Underneath, he continued the black theme with a plain, tight t-shirt, but Jenny was glad he'd taken off the coat. Just looking at it had been making _her_ hot. 

Oh, not like _that_, she thought with a mental slap to the forehead. She had to stop thinking like that. It was distracting, and not to mention highly inappropriate for their current situation. Why couldn't she remember having the same problem last time? Because she was a sixteen-year-old virgin, that was why. Oh, she'd kissed him, been drawn to him almost magnetically, recognized the sex appeal and allure… but it was—different—now. Her imagination was beginning to take liberties with her wandering mind, and unfortunately it had a lot more to work with now than it did eight years earlier. 

Stop it, stop it, stop it, she ordered herself. Focus on the task at hand. Focus on _staying alive_. And for god's sake, stop thinking like that—that's your _grandfather_ just over there! 

That helped, a little. 

"Something wrong?" Julian said suddenly. 

"No!" she snapped. She'd surprised him, a little, with her sharp tone. Even her grandfather gave the pair a backward glance, but said nothing. 

"Here," he said, drawing to a stop. 

Jenny eyed the patch of space. "Where?" she said. "I don't see anything. Except for the trees and the grass and"—she shrugged—"more trees." 

"Well, that would make sense, wouldn't it," Julian said, brushing past her. "After all, that was how we got here." He lifted a hand and stuck it through, letting the air engulf it as it disappeared from view. Just like that. Not cautiously like Jenny—like anyone else—would have done. Then he brought it back, unblemished, unharmed, not covered in any strange goo or attached to some carnivorous little creature. Maybe she'd watched too many horror movies as a kid. 

He raised one dark eyebrow at her. "Ready to go?" 

"Yeah, just give me a minute." He nodded, just one small movement, a knowing look in his eyes. 

Taking a couple of steps away, she indicated her grandfather to follow. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip, nibbling distractedly as she glanced at him. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest and began. "I wish…" she faltered. 

There just weren't words to say all that she was feeling right now, to package everything into these brief minutes. She blinked rapidly as she found her vision blurring. "I wish I could just hug you this one last time." 

He smiled sadly, staring down the few short inches he had on her. No, so he wasn't anywhere near the pillar of strength she remembered from her childhood. He wasn't a giant. He wasn't invulnerable. Just a man, one who had tinkered in forbidden forces and paid the price. But something about the idea of throwing herself in his arms was comforting. There she could fool herself into believing, even if only momentarily, that she was safe and protected. 

"I know," he said softly. "So do I." 

She nodded again. "There's just something I have to tell you, something I never got the chance to say before." Swallowing thickly, she brushed at the sudden wetness that appeared on her face. "Thank you—for what you did that day. Thank you for not letting them take me." 

"No, Jenny," he said, his voice just as quiet and earnest as her own. "What happened that day"—he shook his head—"was _my_ fault. I should have known better. I should have been more—careful." He sighed and his gaze shifted away. It resettled, somewhere over her shoulder, and the dark eyes sharpened. "And I should thank you too, for everything you've done." 

Jenny spun to stare at the spot where Julian stood several feet away, arms folded over his chest, leaning against a tree. Startled eyes shot up at the words; he stared back as if he hadn't comprehended what had been said. Then his expression shuttered once more and he shrugged dismissively and glanced away. "I did it for Jenny." His features were perfectly etched from marble, as stoic as he ever was, but he refused to look at either of them. 

Well, he did seem to have trouble accepting gratitude, she remembered. But when she looked back at her grandfather, there was something in his eyes that made her wonder if she was missing something. 

He nodded her forward. "Go on." Then his slight smile faltered and his eyes hardened fractionally. "You just make it through this thing. Don't let them win." 

Jenny nodded obediently and walked toward Julian. "This time, I _volunteer_ to go first," he offered generously. She didn't miss the way his eyes shifted over her shoulder once before he turned toward the "exit." 

Then he stepped forward and disappeared. She cast one last longing look at her grandfather before taking a deep breath, and followed. 

A scream tore from her lips almost immediately as she fell through empty space. Where's the floor? Where the hell's Julian? 

Then she fell roughly into someone's awaiting arms. 

"Watch your step," a musical voice intoned in her ear. 

Jenny dropped her head back slightly and stared up at Julian accusingly. "You could have said something _before_ I came through." 

"I didn't know then." The unrepentant expression on his face made her wonder. 

Her eyes narrowed. "Well you seem to have recovered quickly," she said, just a bit of suspicion leaking into her voice. 

"Quick reflexes." 

Somehow, her fingers had enclosed around his upper arms, resting on the bare flesh just below where the sleeves of his t-shirt ended. Warm breath tickled the left side of her face as he moved closer, and she tilted her head up slightly. Then she jerked away, her back coming up against solid wall. Julian looked at her questioningly. 

"Don't think just because I let you kiss me earlier, that now you have free reign." 

He laughed, sending a pleasant shiver up her spine. "Let _me_ kiss _you_? As I remember it—it was the other way around." 

Jenny sighed half-heartedly. After their earlier—breakthrough—now he didn't seem so frustrating as he did enticing, and he was playing the part a little too well for her own good. "Keep it up and don't expect any repeat performances." She managed to keep a solemn face. 

Grinning suggestively, he leaned forward. "And if I behave?" his velvet voice tickled her ear. 

She couldn't help it. The corners of her lips quirked in response. A flirty Julian was so much more—well, not _easier_ to deal with—appealing. She surveyed his face appraisingly, from mouth up to his eyes. "Then we'll see. Although"—she tilted her head slightly to one side—"I don't honestly foresee that." 

A hand came to rest on her shoulder then slid down her arm slowly. His eyes drooped to follow its progress. Down to the elbow, down her bared forearm, to her wrist—she held still beneath his hands, barely breathing, though her heart felt like if it beat any harder, it would burst right out of her chest. 

"Oh, I can be good"—he smiled—"with the right motivation." His fingers flitted from her pulse point to her hip, and up to her waist. He locked her in place with his eyes. "What sort of motivation are you offering?" 

Jenny exhaled, letting out a brief laugh to ease the sudden tension. At the same time her hands came up against his chest and she shoved him away, shaking her head. "How about staying alive?" 

  
**

TBC

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Okay, now I have a question for you all… I've been thinking about the rest of the story and I'm wondering, if it comes up (and I stress the word "if"), how graphic should I make anything that happens between Jenny & Julian? We're not talking NC-17 here—I'm not prepared to go that far. But I wanna know what people are comfortable reading. Or should I maybe write two versions, one R-rated, and another PG (or whatever) for those of you who don't want to see them gettin' busy? 


	9. Part 9

**Disclaimer:** No sex in this chapter! I just thought I'd stick it up in the disclaimer so you knew right away, no creating false expectations. Sorry, if there's gonna be any of that, it's coming later. 

**A/N:** I hope y'all don't think I'm evil after this chapter… cuz I'm not. But I have been planning this little development from the very beginning… so then again, maybe I am. 

  
  
  
**

The Resurrection

**

  
_Part 9_

  
  
It was fifteen minutes after noon, fifteen minutes into his lunch break, and Tom Locke was letting himself into the house shared by his former girlfriend—and almost wife—and their mutual long-time friend. Jenny didn't know he was here, collecting the baseball glove he'd left behind some months ago, but a quick call to Dee's cell, and he had been assured it was just fine for him to drop by and pick it up on his own. It was strange, having to ask permission when one month ago, it would have been perfectly normal for him to simply walk in and treat the place as his own. 

Okay, maybe not a month ago, since things had become pretty tense by then. But still, it wasn't insignificant that he still had his copy of the key, the one Jenny had given him almost two years earlier; she hadn't asked for it back. He wasn't sure whether it was because she trusted him to return it on his own, had simply forgotten about it, or some other third reason such as the fact that she, like him, wasn't entirely ready to let go of their relationship. 

Anyway, he wouldn't have stopped by so suddenly, having to resort to securing permission from Dee, except he needed the glove for a weekend game with a group of guys from work. It was Friday afternoon already, and though he could easily have asked Jenny for it after she returned home, he wasn't prepared for the awkwardness of that quite yet. There was just too much _finality_ in asking for something back after a breakup. There was something permanent about the situation once you took that step. And it was a permanence he wasn't sure he was ready for—wasn't sure he _wanted_ to be ready for. 

He slipped inside the door, securing the lock behind him as he shut it. His eyes grazed the surfaces of the entrance, the living room, and onward as he walked deeper into the house. Where had he seen it last? Where swould he have left it? 

The truth of it was that Tom had not ceased to love Jenny. Far from it. There were just these insecurities that surfaced whenever he thought of their relationship, starting since the day he had first proposed, and she accepted. Insecurities that he had had for a long time now, arising from that certain shared incident of years ago, ones that he had _thought_ he'd addressed back then. 

But apparently not. 

With the wedding date fast approaching, and faced with the momentous nature of the event and the commitment, Tom had panicked. Old fears resurfaced, like spirits of the past raised from the dead, and he hadn't been strong enough to resist. He crumbled slowly, bit by bit, with nothing so obvious, but gradual withdrawal, pushing her away, keeping her at arm's length, then sinking into himself. Like a turtle crawling back into his own shell, he had retreated. Because when it came to relationships, and fears and doubts, Tom Locke knew how to run. 

And he hadn't even been brave enough to make the final break himself, waiting until Jenny did it for them. He'd seen the look in her eyes, the uncertainties that echoed his own, though hers were in response to his distance and changed demeanor. And in the end, it had been easy—far too easy—to just call it off, to throw in the towel. Just like that. 

They'd been together forever, since they were kids; they'd never even been with anyone else. 

Not really, since you couldn't count _him_—_he_ and Jenny were never _together_, despite the best of his efforts. 

Even in Tom's mind, he couldn't put a name to the face, or think too hard upon that memory. There was just too much hostility, leftover resentment… things that might have been resolved had he had the chance to confront his rival, face-to-face, on even ground. Nothing a good old-fashioned fistfight wouldn't ease—but there had never been the chance for that. _He_ had gone and gotten himself killed instead. And an oh-so-noble sacrifice it had been at that. Was Tom the only one who saw that the only reason Jenny had been in the position of needing saving was because _Julian_ had lured her into the Shadow World in the first place? 

It seemed so. 

Because after his "death", everyone had extended their shoulders and their condolences to Jenny, as if the loss had somehow been hers to bear. As if this wasn't the same _creature_ that had tormented them for months, chased them from their own world into his, made them face nightmares that were better left in the dark of the night, in their closets, under their beds—where they belonged. 

Jenny had been the worst; her reaction had _hurt_. And he couldn't help but wonder whether she'd told him the truth, that there really was never anything between her and Julian. Because when they all stood in that cramped little hallway in her grandfather's house after barely escaping the clutches of the other Shadow Men, and he'd seen the way she held _him_, the way she cried over _him_, he had doubted it. But he'd pushed the doubts away, because what did it matter? Julian was gone. Tom was still there. And he still loved her, and her alone. That was all that was important. Even if he had to share her love with a memory, a ghost, a rival, that was enough. 

Well, he had _thought_ it was enough, but here he was, proving himself wrong. He had let her go, let her walk away from him. 

No, that wasn't true. He refused to believe that. He refused to believe they were over, _really_ over—just on hold. He had some thinking to do, some pulling himself back together again, before he could go back to Jenny, look her in the eye and tell her he was ready. That he didn't doubt her—didn't doubt them. 

And when the time came, he would do just that. 

When the time came. 

_Garage_, he thought suddenly. That was where they would keep any sports equipment; at least, that was where Dee kept all hers. She had her own mini gym set up in there, opting to park her car outside in favor of the training room, although Jenny had adamantly refused to give up her half so Dee could have a "place to kick and punch things." So _half_ the garage had been converted into a training area, while the other half remained suited for its original purpose. 

Tom pulled open the door and reached over, flicking the familiar switch, letting light flood into the room. He paused. 

Jenny's car was still parked inside. _But wasn't she supposed to be…?_

And if she was still home, why hadn't she noted his arrival, and at least come down to investigate the noise? 

He frowned, a slight tingling sensation at the base of his neck causing him to pull away from the room, the baseball mitt forgotten. She wasn't downstairs, or she surely would have noticed him. So that meant she had to be upstairs, if she was home at all. Backtracking to the entrance, he found himself climbing the stairs to the second floor within seconds. 

"Jenny?" The heavy stillness within the house seemed to absorb his call almost immediately. He was struck by the strange sensation of being alone… and yet not alone. 

_Something's wrong._

He reached the landing, and headed toward her bedroom, hesitating slightly outside the door. "Jenny?" His hand remained poised on the doorknob. 

This was ridiculous. He had been in that room enough times—in that _bed_ enough times—to feel perfectly comfortable walking in, especially when he was just checking up to make sure everything was all right. 

He entered. The room was empty, the bed made. Everything neat and ordered—nothing out of place. The bathroom door was open, revealing no one inside. And yet, still, he couldn't fight the feeling that something was extremely _wrong_… something was _out of place_. 

Eyes skimming over the room once more, he suddenly froze. Everything—body, heart, mind—in a temporary state of suspension. 

_Oh no._

  


~*~

  
Deirdre Eliade, known to most as simply Dee, was in the middle of demonstrating a newly developed move to her "chocolate martial arts god". It was an intricate step that required first tripping up her opponent, and pinning him to the ground. 

"And then," she narrated as she proceeded to the next step, "You do this." Her slender but powerful frame trapped him beneath her, and her clever hands moved so quickly, he could barely register the action. "And voila. He is defenseless to whatever you have in store for him next." 

"Uh…" Devon Saunders' slightly confused hazel eyes stared up at her. "That's a great move, really Dee, but there's something I just don't get…" 

Dee arched an eyebrow, still seated atop him. "What's that?" 

He raised his own two in reply, brow furrowing to convey his emotions. "How exactly does ripping open your attacker's shirt fall into the whole self-defense thing?" 

Her dark gaze sparkled as a wicked smile uncurled on her lips. Long, elegant fingers ran down his bared chest, nails scratching lightly the cinnamon-colored flesh, and she delighted in the slight shiver that went through his frame. "It doesn't." She leaned in, slow and close, until her lips were brushing his as she spoke. "You've got it backwards—_I'm_ the attacker, _you're_ the helpless little victim." 

Understanding dawned in him—or maybe he just didn't care at that point—because the hands that had been trapped beneath her knees were working themselves free, reaching up and grasping her head, and pulling her down closer to his mouth. 

Then 'Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy' began playing in the background, in annoying, tinny, high-pitched, digital sound. 

Dee groaned, pulling herself away and slowly to her feet, leaving a rather frustrated Devon lying on the floor. "Have you been fooling around with my phone again?" 

His eyes followed her as she made her way to her coat, fumbling through the pockets, searching out the little device. 

"What makes you think that?" 

Dee glared at him, trying not to smile at the puppy-dog innocent eyes he made in response, and she snatched the phone out. "Because you know I hate these stupid rings. I prefer to keep it simple." 

Devon grinned, rising gracefully to stand and re-buttoning the shirt she had torn open just moments earlier. "Then why would I change it? Knowing as I do, just how much this ring would irritate you." 

She rolled her eyes, letting him know he was fooling no one. "Hello?" 

Turning back to her coat, she pulled her watch out of the other pocket. Twenty-five past. Her next class wouldn't be until one-thirty, after lunch. Which was, in fact, the reason why Devon had dropped by, although they had been a little sidetracked along the way. 

"Tom, hey, what's up?" A pair of strong arms came up from behind, wrapping around her waist, and a chin rested on her shoulder. "You find your glove?" She slapped a hand as it began sliding a little too south for its own good. Properly chastised, it promptly returned to more appropriate latitude. 

"What?" The sudden tension in her body caused Devon to lift his chin away from the playful, relaxed position. "What are you talking about? Tom, wait… runes? Are you sure?" She raised her free hand to her face, eyes fluttering closed briefly. "No, don't do anything, and _don't_ open the door—not yet. Wait for me. I'll be there in… fifteen minutes." 

She pulled out of the warm grasp, taking a couple of steps forward, the comfort of the gesture suddenly lost for her. "No, Tom, _wait for me_. Fifteen minutes won't make much of a difference either way, but we'll have a much better chance if we go together." Already, she was grabbing her coat, her keys, and moving toward the door. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Okay, see you soon." 

"What's going on?" the baritone voice inquired as she snapped the phone shut. 

Dee turned to face him, the hesitation as clear on her features as the worry on his. And worry not only at the conversation he'd just overheard, but also at her obvious reluctance to tell him. 

As abruptly and unexpectedly as that, a choice had been presented to her. The choice to decide just how serious this relationship was, whether she saw a future worth protecting there. Tell him now and risk a reaction just like those of the police and their parents after the paper house game, where they had lost Summer. Risk losing him, having him think her crazy and simply leave her here and now. 

But not tell him, and risk losing him in another way entirely. 

It was a big risk, either way. Too big, and unfair. She hadn't told anyone, ever, not since that first time. None of them had, nor had they often spoken of the events, even with each other, over the years since then. They had discussed it enough right after it had happened, but over time with lessening frequency. 

But it was just a matter of time—how long could you hide from something like that? Pretend it didn't happen, simply ignore it like it wasn't something you thought about at night, in that time before you fell asleep, or after you awoke from a nightmare and had trouble wanting to return to unconsciousness again. Like it wasn't something that had _changed_ you forever. For better or for worse. 

But still, forever. 

So right then and there, Dee made a decision. "Come with me." 

  


~*~

  
"Shadow Men?" She nodded. "Shadow World?" She nodded again. "Shadow Men from a Shadow World?" 

Dee spared a gauging glance in his direction, daring to let her eyes leave the road. Daring, because with how fast she was going, even a nanosecond spent with her gaze turned elsewhere was a gamble. 

"I always figured you for a clever boy, Devon; don't disappoint me now." 

"Well, it's a little hard to swallow," he returned dryly, running a hand through curly dark hair. "I think it's saying something that I'm still in this car with you." 

Dee grinned as she took a sharp turn and watched him clutch at the door with one arm, the dash with the other. "Is that because you're willing to hear me out, or because you're too afraid to pull the old jumping-out-of-a-moving-car scene?" 

"Hey, I may be a stuntman, but the whole deal with a stunt is to try something that you have at least a _remote_ chance of surviving. When certain death is involved, it's just sheer insanity." 

"Then I don't know how you're going to feel about this whole entering the Shadow World deal," she muttered under her breath as she barely beat a red light. 

  
**

TBC

**

  
  
  
Okay, so you've probably guessed at what's coming next. And don't worry, there'll be plenty of Julian… and Jenny, in the next part. 


	10. Part 10

And finally I give you, in all its ::cough:: glory, Part 10: the rewrite. 

Many thanks to **Miya** and **Ellie**, for their encouragement, their assistance, and their beta-reading services. I'm sure this would have made very little sense without them both. And as always, thank you to everyone who's reviewed and/or emailed me and made it abundantly clear that if I ever attempted to abandon this story, there is no place in this world obscure enough, no corner dark enough, where you wouldn't be able to seek me out and demand that I continue. 

I've already gotten started on Part 11, but it's a pretty hairy semester this time around and though I am loathe to admit it, school does take precedence. So don't fret if there's a fair gap between updates (although considering my track record, you should probably be used to it anyhow). Of all the stories that I am presently working on, this one takes top priority. 

  
**

The Resurrection

**

  
_Part 10_

  
  
"Oh, wow..." Jenny said softly, gazing up in awe. 

They had just emerged from the tunnel, arriving outside--if it could really be called an outside in the Underworld. 

And it was quite a sight to behold. 

Not the endless, awning darkness that awaited them in the distance, but the view behind them. 

When Julian had said they were in a passageway beneath the Palace of Hades, Jenny supposed she hadn't really stopped to consider what it meant. But even if she had, she knew it didn't matter. No image that mere words could conjure would have lived up to the sight before her eyes. 

A palace. She'd never seen one before, though there had been a few houses in the past that she'd once thought could live up to the name. She realized now she'd been wrong. 

This place puts the Taj Mahal to shame. 

Growing up in her parents' Vista Grande neighborhood, Jenny had thought herself immune to opulence and empty decadence. But this... this was just-- 

"Hades is the king of the dead, but not the god of death," Julian said suddenly, as if she'd asked the question. "Many people make the mistake of assuming the second." 

Jenny raised her eyebrows at the abrupt turn in conversation as she looked toward him. 

His black clothes seemed to lend him to the shadows. Only the startling contrast of frost white hair, and his exposed face and arms, kept him from disappearing into them completely. 

"In actuality, he's the god of wealth, and precious metals," he continued conversationally. 

Jenny stared at him a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "Hence, the solid gold walls," she said, smiling slightly as she made the connection. 

She should have known better; Julian's seemingly random remarks always came back to the original topic--no matter how unrelated they appeared on the surface. 

He gave her an approving smile like she was a student who had just finally grasped a difficult concept. "A lot easier to come by down here than lumber or concrete." 

"Alright," she said, taking a deep breath as she gestured to their surroundings. "Since you seem to have some idea of where we are and where we're supposed to go--well, lead away." 

Tilting his head slightly to one side, Julian gave her a considering look. "Fine," he nodded after a moment. "This way," he said, with the sweep of an arm. 

All Jenny could see in the direction he had indicated was darkness. 

"And just out of curiosity, this will take us where?" she asked, joining him as he set out. The flashlight sent out a modest beam of light ahead of them, illuminating the path so they could step around any pockets in the dirt, or rocks jutting out obtrusively from the ground. 

"To our eventual destination. We'll have to do this backwards, it seems. Since the dead would travel where we started out--I'd say we follow the same path back to the entrance." 

Jenny switched the flashlight to the other hand, flexing the arm that had been holding it. She scanned the blackness, but her attempts to pick apart the more distant shadows seemed almost futile. The darkness was so thick, so heavy, that it felt like something physical weighing against her body. 

It was almost something tangible, oppressive, bearing in from all sides. And with no idea of what lay more than a few feet beyond in any given direction, unease settled heavily in the pit of Jenny's stomach. 

A small voice inside her head whispered all sorts of unreasonable fears of what might be lurking in the shadows around them, waiting to pounce at any moment--except, given present circumstances, they suddenly didn't seem so unreasonable after all. Jenny nervously thumbed the switch of the slender flashlight, reassuring herself it was at the maximum setting. 

But this probably wasn't the best time to be thinking about all that. Julian had always had the uncanny ability to pick out their private fears, and bring them to life; what if this ability was common to all the Shadow Men? 

Then again, of course, Julian hadn't exactly required them to be thinking of those fears at the time...or for them to be aware they even existed... 

"What's with this thing?" Jenny said in exasperation, speaking mostly to herself as she banged the flashlight twice into the flattened palm of her other hand for emphasis. She'd put fresh batteries in just the other day, but for some reason the fragile yellow beam that filtered out was only enough to barely penetrate the surrounding shadows. 

"It's the realm of pure darkness--the Underworld." Julian's voice seemed to slice through the silence, making Jenny start--and feel somewhat foolish for her jumpiness. She shot him a mild look of annoyance. 

"No sun, no moon, no stars," he continued patiently. "No light penetrates this place." 

"Oh." 

No light--just pure night and shadows. 

It was no wonder why the Shadow Men had chosen this particular setting. If there was any place they felt at home, it was in the darkness...though there was Julian, who had always seemed obsessed with getting a taste of the light. 

"And you're sure we're going in the right direction this time?" she said, recalling their previous experience in the cavern. 

Julian shrugged, an easy roll of his shoulders. "Only one way to find out," he said. 

Catching Jenny's unappreciative look, he gave a long-suffering sigh before sidling up close and draping an arm over her shoulders. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Jenny had the thought that the weight of it was surprisingly comfortable. 

Outwardly, she fixed him with a glare. 

"There's really no two ways about it," he explained, ignoring the look. "At least not at this point. Really, if you stick to the path you should be fine. It's just that people so often seem to have trouble sticking to the path." 

"Why's that?" she said curiously, her gaze riveted on his profile, which she could make out from this close up even with the flashlight directed at the path before them. 

His face looked so smooth, carved from marble. She wondered if it felt that way too. Or would it be roughened slightly, from stubble, the way Tom's always was, except for that first little while after he shaved. 

Julian's mouth curled up slightly at one corner, though there was little genuine amusement there. "What makes people do things they know they shouldn't, Jenny? Act in ways they know they ought not to?" He turned toward her, their faces so close together she could see herself reflected back in his pupils. 

"What?" she said tentatively. Though suddenly Jenny couldn't seem to recall what they'd been talking about in the first place. 

He leaned in toward her-they had stopped walking sometime, without her realizing--and Jenny found herself angling around until they were almost facing one another. 

"Temptation," he answered, warm breath brushing over her lips. 

Oh, and he had that mastered, didn't he? Right from the beginning, when she'd walked into that store--More Games--he'd tempted her even then, seemingly without trying. Making her forget all about Tom, and about his birthday party, about the two thugs lingering outside. 

If she had to pick one word to describe Julian--once, she would have picked "dangerous". Now that she knew better--not that by any stretch of the imagination, he wasn't dangerous-but that she'd pinpointed what it was about him that made him that way--"tempting" would have to be it. 

Jenny leaned back slowly and gave him what she hoped was an innocent look. "Then we'll just have to resist it, won't we?" 

Julian smiled in return, looking utterly unperturbed. "We'll try." His eyes, midnight blue in the dim light, glimmered. 

Jenny suppressed a shiver and forced her thoughts in a different direction. 

"Where are we going?" she asked once they'd resumed walking and it seemed like a good time to return to the original subject. 

If Julian knew this place as well as he seemed to think, then unlike her previous experiences, they wouldn't have to stumble about blindly and wait for each clue to take them to the next step. Although...that made her wonder--why would the Shadow Men pick a setting that Julian was familiar with? Wouldn't they rather catch him off-guard...or was it simply that there wasn't any game they could have chosen that he wouldn't already know? 

Jenny frowned, but shook her head. If there was really anything to worry about, she was sure Julian would have already considered it... 

"That would be the Plain of Judgment," he said, cutting off her train of thought. 

"What?" Jenny glanced toward him. "The Plain of--" 

She stopped mid-sentence, as she stumbled suddenly. Julian caught her by the upper arm, keeping her upright. 

"Careful," he said, but Jenny's attention was still focused on the ground. Her foot had caught on something--something that looked oddly like--a floor. A gleaming marble surface, some two inches thick and rising up out of the dirt trail they'd been following. 

"That definitely wasn't there just a second ago," she observed with quiet certainty. 

It was then that Jenny realized there seemed to a lot more light all of sudden--far more than her single flashlight could have managed. 

She looked up. 

Gazing at her surroundings--which had changed drastically from moments earlier--she knew they had indeed arrived at the Plain of Judgment. 

It was a square-shaped area, marked by the smooth polished floor of marble. Each of the four corners was punctuated by tall ornate pillars, carved from the same material. In between, at equal intervals every few feet, stood torches. Extended from long thin iron-wrought poles, they jutted up out of the floor, their flames flickering in a nonexistent wind, and casting shadows that danced across the ground and over the three unmoving shapes in the center of the clearing. 

As her attention settled on these figures--tall and adorned in long robes, hoods drawn and faces obscured--Jenny sucked in her breath and held it unconsciously. 

"Where the souls of the departed receive their fate--blessed to an eternity in Elysium, or damned into the pits of Tartarus," Julian spoke up quietly next to her. "Don't worry, though; it's only for the dead," a quick smile in her direction, teeth reflecting brilliantly in the half-darkness, "which neither of us are." 

Yet, Jenny thought morbidly. But she kept the thought to herself. 

Julian stepped across the marble floor, making his way to the center of the clearing with a casual air Jenny couldn't begin to fathom--not when her own heart was thundering loudly in her chest, and her hands were so clammy the flashlight was starting to grow slippery in her tight grip. 

She followed him without prompting, not wanting to be left alone at the edge of the darkness. Her eyes kept shifting between the robed figures and the shadows that danced along her peripheral vision. So she almost missed it completely when Julian stopped without warning. 

Her shoe scuffing into the floor sounded painfully loud in Jenny's ears as she came to an abrupt halt behind him. 

Not wanting to seem like she was hiding--even when the desire to do so was desperately strong--she took a daring step to one side. Still, she was close enough to him that if she reached out, she could enclose her hand around his arm--but far enough away that she didn't feel like she was cowering in Julian's protection. 

Drawing her attention away from him, Jenny focused on the robed figures before them and waited for someone to make the next move. 

No more than a moment passed before the one in the center lifted an arm slowly, uncurling its hand until gnarled, inhuman fingers were extended from the long sleeves. 

"Come forth and receive your judgment," came a deep voice from the gaping blackness that peeked out from the low hanging hood. Jenny had expected something rasping and ghoulish, like something out of a typical horror movie. Instead it was surprisingly normal, commanding and authoritative--the type of voice that belonged to someone used to being obeyed. 

Stepping forward as instructed, Julian gazed up to the towering forms and spoke. "How about I save you the trouble--even if there were need for judgment here," he flashed a genuinely amused grin here in Jenny's direction, "I'm sure we could all guess the outcome of this one without much strain." 

It was humor in which Jenny did not share, and she made it abundantly clear with the glare she returned him. Considering the circumstances, she found his lack of concern highly unsettling--not to mention inappropriate. She was reminded a bit of Dee's fearlessness--except even Dee had her limitations. 

The judge farthest right of the three--and closest to Jenny--shifted his hooded head in her direction. Tendrils of alarm sparked through her as she felt herself pinned beneath the invisible gaze. 

"You are of the living," he stated in a quiet voice. "You do not belong here." 

Jenny opened her mouth to reply, but wasn't quite sure what to say. Julian saved her the trouble. 

"Yes, that's right. So you understand--we're simply seeking passage through your court." 

The one who'd spoken to Jenny was still looking toward her when a noise sounded in the air, above the pair. A heavy _whoosh_, as a shadow fell over them, made her glance up immediately. 

Jenny let out a startled shriek as something--something large and fast--swooped close overhead. 

It sent a breeze through her hair like ghostly fingers raking against her scalp. She screamed again, ducking her head in blind panic as she leapt to the side. Her weight landed hard against Julian, who'd jumped into her path and grabbed her arm, steadying them both to keep them from meeting the ground. 

She struggled against the hands that held her in place, fighting instinctively. 

"Stop!" he demanded. Her head snapped back almost painfully as he shook her to gain her attention. "Jenny!" And then, lowering his voice, he said, "You're fine." 

In a dazed sort of afterthought, she raised her head--noting idly that her face was almost buried in Julian's chest by this point, her wrists still gripped in his hands--but she was too distracted to care. 

With some surprise, she realized that she was fine. No blood, no pain--nothing. 

She glanced up at Julian. Slightly breathless and not daring anything above a whisper, she said, "What...what was--" 

But she found herself cut off by a new voice. 

"Jenny!" 

Through the adrenaline still surging through her veins, making it difficult to concentrate on anything beside the frightening ordeal of moments earlier, recognition flared at that familiar voice. 

And it didn't belong to Julian. Not possible, since Julian was standing right beside her, and that voice had come from over-- 

Turning slightly in her awkward position, Jenny faced the source--and her eyes widened in disbelief. 

Oh god, no. This can't be happening... 

But it was. And proof enough stood before her, gazing back with hazel-flecked eyes that shone with betrayal. 

"Tom..." 

  


_tbc_


End file.
